


begging you to keep on haunting me

by mercuryretrograte (brujadelmar)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Fantastic Racism, Hybrids, Knotting, M/M, Minor Jongin/Yoona, Platonic Chankai, Social Issues, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 01:12:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brujadelmar/pseuds/mercuryretrograte
Summary: PROMPT C007: Kim Jongin is South Korea's newest sweetheart, receives a threatening letter. He's going on tour very soon, so his manager decided to hire a team, with the sole intent to keep Jongin safe from his extremely ravenous fanbase. But he really doesn’t like the thought of another hybrids following his every step. And why are they so hot?





	begging you to keep on haunting me

 

.

 

The windows are wide open.

Jongin stands in the middle of the room. The tips of his toes caress the carpet and the night wind plays with his hair. He smiles; his feet and shoulders move without any effort. He raises his arms slowly, until his fingers point toward the ceiling. The beat of the song gets faster and he finally stands on his toes, letting one arm fall in a wavy movement.

In times like these he feels like he can feel the waves of the music – he’s swimming in them, almost drowning. A blurry limit keeps him away from reality and he knows, he just knows he can float if he just on his body right.

He rotates easily and jumps, falling graciously on his feet, both arms open in a line.

While the singer screams _Tell me, what's wrong?_ , he walks slowly to the window. It’s late at night, few lights outside. It’s chilly, and he stares at the buildings under the thin light of his room. The moon is a crescent, bright, beautiful and he can see the stars in the clear, dark sky. His face is sweaty, but he feels good, like he does every time after dancing. He feels satisfied, full, and he closes his eyes to feel the wind on his face.

He’s alone.

There’s wine in the right temperature, and a warm meal he bought - just fresh from the kitchen, on the way home. He waited for so long to feel this kind of quiet contentment.

He opens his eyes - _no_.

Something is missing.

He goes to the kitchen, opens the wine bottle carefully, and pours a small quantity in a glass. He sits on the couch and stares at the room. When he’s tired, he puts the glass in the floor. He’ll sleep that way – sweaty; kind of drunk. No one will complain, anyway.

Jongin almost trips on his bag. It’s still half open, because he just put it on his back as he left the studio. Even his credit card was inside of his socks. He picks his bag up, taking it out of the way so he won’t trip on it later.

When he puts it on the ground, the bag opens and his things fall in the floor. He sighs, but he knows he deserves it. He squats to pick up his things, and that’s when he sees it.

A white paper, folded in two.

He picks it up carefully. He doesn’t remember putting any paper in his bag. He only has training on Sunday.

There’s a picture on it.

Jongin stares at him. He skips a beat, his hands shaking.

It’s a black swan.

Dead.

His neck is broken and he has no eyes left. He’s floating in a river.

He unfolds the paper and there’s something written on it in a thin, classic calligraphy.

 

_Beautiful creatures, no doubt. But so fragile. So easy to break._

_I heard hunting season started, Jongin._

_Take care of yourself._

_._

_._

_._

He leaves the car, sunglasses on. His manager tries to hold him down, but Jongin can still see the flashing lights in his face. The screaming crowd gets louder and he just wants to hide. Chanyeol easily blocks his way.

“Take him inside,” he says to Junmyeon, while standing by the door. There’s the building security there, but he stays in the same place. Jongin knows the place is safe, but he needs a placebo effect of having his bodyguard next to him. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“I got it,” Junmyeon says, and he looses his grip on Jongin’s arm to hold his hand instead. “Let’s go. We’re going to the last floor.”

“How the hell did they know I would be here?” Jongin complains, quickly following him.

“Fansites,” Junmyeon says, pressing the elevator button. “I’m sure there was someone following the car. They don’t know the reason we came, calm down.”

“I can’t calm down,” he breathes out, but he’s sure everybody knows why. They wait five minutes to get to the floor and Jongin only gets calm when they enter through the glass door. The name ‘RED DRAGON SECURITY’ is written next to a classic drawing of the flaming creature, and somehow that makes him feel safe.

There’s no reception. Instead, it’s the longest room he has even been into: white walls, many grey couches, a few dark paintings on the walls, and a long, long black fluffy carpet. Even the lamps are dark, and the last wall, at the end of the carpet, is made of thick glass.

A man stands there, in a long black and gold coat. He’s just staring at the sight and Junmyeon needs to walk for a while until he’s noticed.

“Yifan,” he says, walking faster. Jongin walks behind him carefully. “Long time no see!”

The man turns to them, and now Jongin can see his tall and broad figure completely. The man nods.

“Junmyeon,” he answers, serious. “Make yourself comfortable, friend.”

“Are you going to stand? Don’t offend me,” Junmyeon laughs, touching the man’s arm. “Come here, meet Jongin.”

The man’s piercing gaze lands on Jongin.

“Nice to meet you,” he bows respectfully. Jongin does the same, but keeps the distance between them. “I was waiting for you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he says, gulping. When Junmyeon sits down, Jongin imitates him. The other men start a small talk, and Jongin stares at his dirty and old converse. He feels like a kid in an adult’s reunion.

“… I’ll call him, just a minute,” Yifan snaps his fingers. Another man, also in black and gold, walks in, closing the glass door after him. He’s also tall, but he seems less threatening. He walks until he’s next to them, but he doesn’t sit down. “This is Zitao. Zitao, this is Kim Jongin and his manager and an old friend of mine, Junmyeon.”

The man just bows. He has a tiny smile on his face and eyeliner adorning his pretty cat-like eyes.

“Now we’re all here—” Yifan starts to say, but Jongin complains:

“What about Chanyeol?”

“He’s well informed,” Yifan answers, to Jongin’s surprise. “Chanyeol is one of us, after all.”

“Sorry,” Junmyeon smiles easily. “Jongin is very anxious.”

Zitao looks curiously at them, but he stays silent. The room is too cold; Jongin braces himself, feeling small.

“Well, no one can judge his nervousness,” Yifan says, walking slowly, always next to the wall. “Jongin is receiving death threats and he can’t just hide, being as famous as he is. I understand why he needs to have a friend next to him… but now he’ll need more than that. I… need you to understand… we’re busy. But I owe you a big favor for helping me, and I don’t forget the ones who helped me. I’ll help Jongin as if he was one of my own.”

“I’m very grateful,” Junmyeon says and Jongin knows he’s too serious. He looks small and fragile in his grey sweater, but his expression is as hard as iron. “I treat him as my family. This isn’t just business.”

Jongin unconsciously holds his hand.

“I know. That’s why I need you to know how this is going to work. And I need to be sure that you’ll cooperate.”

“We will,” Jongin says this time, because he wants to say something. Yifan just bends to pick up a black file on the couch next to him. He walks to them, and Jongin looks up at his face instead of accepting the files – Junmyeon does it, instead.

“We did an entire research of your career and life. We have your genealogical tree, school reports, entire social media content and publications. Besides, of course, what your label gave us. Zitao himself brought your entire routine mapped up,” he says, walking back to the glass wall. “It wasn’t exhausting. It was pretty… short. Of course, we came to our own conclusions, but we want to hear from you.”

Jongin blinks. In a fraction of a second, everyone is staring at him.

“Me?” he asks. “But… what do you want to know…?”

“Yes, you,” Yifan says, and Jongin finally understands why he was feeling comfortable there when his sharp eyes turn yellow for a minute. He’s a hybrid. “Just tell us what you think we should know about… everything.”

Junmyeon squeezes Jongin’s hand, reassuring him. Jongin looks at Zitao and realizes he’s a hybrid too. In his neck, the only visible part of his body besides his face and hands, sits many dark spots.

“… I… don’t… I don’t know what’s happening. I mean, I do… as a concept,” he licks his lips. “I always received bad… messages, angry comments. Not just… online. Since I’ve decided to do ballet, people are… they don’t like me. I’ve always…”

He looks at both of them. He doesn’t know what they are, but he knows… they’re predators. They’re not peaceful animals. They’re not…

“… When I was accepted into the National Ballet Academy… they… I was the first black swan there. They rarely accept hybrids. But… every hybrid was a white swan or a soft animal. I had close friends at the Academy, but many people disliked my presence. It was worse when I decided to leave and work solo. I’m aware I’m popular and have many fans, but my fame never guaranteed me less enemies or… less critics.”

Yifan nods for him to continue talking.

“… I’m not having problems with the staff or my team. I don’t have… anyone to suspect anything, really. I can only think it’s a fan. I have few people around me, and they’re my friends and family. I can’t understand why someone would do… that. How they had access to my things…”

“At first, I thought it was a prank by a friend,” Junmyeon says. “But he said it wasn’t.”

“Taemin is crazy, but not _that_ crazy,” Jongin sighs. “He would never do that. It’s not a prank. No joke. But at the same time, I don’t know why…”

“We agree with you,” Zitao finally says. “We don’t think it was a joke. There were no prints. No warning. It was clear that the person who did it wanted to intimidate you.”

“Are you sure you don’t know anyone who would like if you were scared? I don’t particularly believe this person actually wants to hurt you. Maybe they just want to get back at you,” Yifan crosses his arms elegantly. “An old rival? An ex lover? An intense fan? Someone who could blame you for anything…”

“No,” Jongin says resolutely. “I’m not a social person. I don’t go to parties or things like that. I have few friends and I work like crazy. Only those people can get close to me, my loved ones and people who work with me.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Junmyeon confirms.

“I believe you,” Yifan says gently. “But I’m giving you a copy of everything, so you can read and try to remember something. Let’s talk about what we’re going to do.”

Jongin nods, gulping. He’s almost breaking his manager’s hand.

“From now on, you’ll have three bodyguards,” he raises three fingers. “Chanyeol will accompany you like he always did. But I’ll give you two of my best men. Zitao, here, will be near you in every public appearance. In dangerous situations, he’ll replace Chanyeol. He has the right training for that. He’ll be in your apartment too.”

Before Jongin can complain, Yifan cuts him.

“Not up to discussion,” he says dryly. “Zitao is responsible enough to protect important people like the president. Consider this an honor.”

“We are very honored,” Junmyeon says, side eyeing Jongin. Zitao doesn’t seem to be offended.

“Every public event that you must attend needs to be approved by us. You’ll report to us every week and we’ll only allow authorized people into your building for the next month,” Yifan turns a little to look at the sight on the wall. “No word will be published about this. To the public eye, nothing happened. It’s a protocol, so you must follow and keep this a secret.”

“Besides Taemin, no one knows about it - not even my family,” he assures.

“Good. It must stay like that. Don’t worry about the changes. We will try to be discreet, because your schedule must continue like nothing happened.”

“And don’t worry about the person who sent the letter,” Zitao says slowly. “We have a good team here. They’ll find more information.”

“I have no doubt that we can find this person in less than two months,” Yifan nods. “We’re making you a priority and we’ve worked in worst conditions before.”

“You don’t have to worry about anything, really,” Junmyeon says softly. “I’ll handle this matter. I just ask you to be attentive.”

Jongin nods slowly.

“… I just want this to end,” he mumbles.

“Concentrate on your work and try not to create problems for us,” Yifan says. “I think that’s all. Any doubts?”

Jongin blinked.

“You said… three bodyguards.”

“Ah, yeah. I forgot Kyungsoo. But don’t worry about it. You won’t see him at all,” Yifan smiles. It’s a scary smile and now the ‘red dragon’ makes sense – in his burning red eyes. “But he’ll see you.”

 

 

.

 

.

 

He sits on the ground, with his knees bent and his back in a straight-up position. His bare feet show red marks, the dust of his tiredness. He takes a long breath, looking at himself in the mirror. Jongin is absolutely sure he’s getting to the top of the game. He’s so busy, he’s young but not that young, he has the attention all over himself; his face is everywhere on the streets. Outdoors, magazines, television or on his fan’s possessions.

But Jongin is stuck.

He stares at his face in the mirror, at the dark circles under his eyes. He couldn’t sleep because he made a mistake in his last presentation. He can’t afford mistakes. They haunt him in his sleep, they haunt him while he’s talking or when he’s alone, all by himself. People like him– he can’t fail. He can’t… To be where he is, he has to be the best. And he knows it, he knows it very well, that many people, including some who call themselves fans, are just waiting for him to slip and fall. Being in the public eye is never relaxing. Even right now, locked in his room, he’s being watched. And he can’t—

“Excuse me.”

Jongin stands up quickly. It’s Zitao, standing at the door. Jongin didn’t hear him coming.

“Yes?” he says, gulping.

“You have a meeting,” the leopard hybrid says slowly. “We have to leave soon, because we can’t leave during rush hour.”

“Fine,” he nods, rubbing his arms. “Where’s Chanyeol?”

“He’s waiting for you in your apartment. He says he ordered the food you like,” Zitao says gently. “But I have to take you first.”

Jongin hates his choice of words.

“I’ll be ready in twenty minutes,” Jongin sighs.

“We don’t have twenty minutes,” Zitao says, leaning his head. He’s dressed neatly like he’s the famous one, as always. Jongin noticed he likes to wear expensive clothes, and he’s not sure if it’s a part of his disguise or his personal taste. “Five.”

“Do you want me to take a bath and get dressed in five minutes?” Jongin snorts.

“Yes,” Zitao smiles simply. “I wouldn’t waste my time bickering if I was you.”

 

Well, Jongin does his best. At least he’s not stinking anymore, but he’s completely wet when he sits on the passenger seat. Zitao drives carefully, and his hybrid side seems to be amplified. He has the same expression that big cats do when they’re alert. Jongin wants to look at his phone, but he can’t be at ease when alone with his man. Jongin can see his gun, the way his body is ready for anything, and he can’t just ignore it - even if Zitao is there to protect him.

“I know you don’t appreciate my presence here,” Zitao says suddenly. “I understand you wouldn’t like a person like me to be around you all the time. That’s why Chanyeol is signed to accompany you in your private spaces.”

Jongin just looks at the man, in silence. He knew he wasn’t being subtle, but perhaps he could justify it with his shyness.

“I just hope you’ll notice my hybridity doesn’t define who I am,” Zitao says clearly, driving elegantly. “I am a trained fighter, but I am also a pacifist. I don’t enjoy violence and I prefer to be in touch with my domestic and caring side. My job already asks for too much violence.”

“No offense,” Jongin licks his lips, annoyed. “But I couldn’t care less. I’ve heard that from predators before.”

Many of them, soft-spoke men and women, gentle and kind in their words - but their eyes… their eyes never lie. They look at Jongin like he’s fragile; he’s something to be stepped on, eaten alive, used, just… something.

“So, do you prefer the presence of humans?” Zitao laughs. “You prefer the people who segregated and created, explored, sold and treated us like disposable things?”

“I’m not a fan of humans,” Jongin side eyes him. “But I don’t believe they're more or less harmful than hybrids, especially when there’s a power hierarchy.”

“I do understand you,” Zitao looks at him for a fraction of a second. “Hybrids sometimes act just like the ones who hurt them. But maybe you’ll see someday that even the most powerful hybrid can’t hurt you like humans can.”

Jongin sighs. He hates this dismissive discourse. He misses the time when he had nothing but his work to think about. He remembers his mistakes and his stomach hurts. He feels a strong need to harm himself.

He has to give his best and he’s just being mediocre.

“I watched you dance today,” Zitao says quietly. “I had never seen it before. Now I understand why people are obsessed with you. It was beautiful.”

Listen to compliments like this doesn’t help him.

“Do you have to watch me when I’m unaware of your presence?”

“Yes. This is my job.”

“I was in a locked room.”

“If it was well protected,” Zitao says, yawning. “I couldn’t watch you dancing.”

Jongin closes his eyes, annoyed.

“You could’ve warned me.”

“If I’m not watching, then Kyungsoo will,” he says, stopping the car. “So, consider this a warning.”

 

.

 

He’s insanely hungry when Chanyeol puts the food on the table. He forced himself to skip a meal because he needed to compensate for the anxious eating while he had to be quiet – he couldn’t leave home after finding the letter.

Chanyeol sits next to him, watching Jongin eat.

“Calm down,” he snorts. “You have to chew.”

Jongin makes a face while munching. Chanyeol just shakes his head, looking around. He’s going to say something, because Chanyeol doesn’t get quiet unless he’s too tired to speak. He has been Jongin bodyguard for the last two years; they know each other too well. Taemin, during his monthly visits, always referred to Chanyeol as ‘hired boyfriend’. Jongin would be offended if his love life wasn’t so… sad. At least Chanyeol is nice company and he brings him food, not very far from a good boyfriend.

“I heard you’re not happy with your new team,” Chanyeol says casually. “I knew you would react badly, but—”

“What?” Jongin asks, almost spitting his food. “Why?”

“Because you’re not very friendly when you meet new people,” Chanyeol makes a face that shows his small dimple. “Actually, you have a hard time every time you have to deal with new things in your routine, but you’re especially angry with people invading your privacy.”

“And I’ve got a reason, no?” Jongin argues, shaking a piece of shrimp before eating.

“Well, now you do,” Chanyeol says, sighing. “But you see, Tao is the gentlest guy they could find. Seriously. He’s… just a high school human girl with super powers. He knows how to fight.”

Jongin laughs.

“He uses a lot of woman’s perfume.”

“He uses a lot of girly things because he’s soft,” Chanyeol says. “Also, I’m pretty sure you’re not rejecting his presence because he’s aggressive, but because he’s a hybrid.”

“A leopard hybrid,” Jongin adds, licking his lips. He eyes Chanyeol’s changing facial expression while he drinks his juice. “The person who wrote the letter sounded like a predator. So, this is my life now? I’m a fragile swan who needs to be protected by the same people who could harm me?”

“Anyone could harm you,” Chanyeol points out. “You have a gigantic fanbase. You’re the guy of the moment. You should be grateful that you have such powerful people taking care of you.”

“I am,” Jongin says. “I just don’t like people ogling me when I’m supposed to be alone and safe.”

“Tao is a respectful man. You don’t have to worry about that,” Chanyeol says. “I wouldn’t let bad people near you.”

Jongin softens. It’s hard not to believe in Chanyeol’s sincerity. He wipes his mouth and sits up straight. The windows are wide open, the night is quiet, and he’s eating a nice meal. He has no reason to be mad.

“How about the other guy?”

“Huh?” Chanyeol frowns.

“The other guy watching me,” Jongin moves his hands, pointing to the ceiling. “From above or… where ever he’s hidden.”

“Ah, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol smiles. “What about him?”

“I don’t know. People don’t talk about this guy. How can I feel safe if I don’t even know who’s protecting me?”

“Kyungsoo doesn’t like to be seen,” Chanyeol scratches his nose. “It’s part of his job, after all, being discreet. He’s like a secret bodyguard, but he hardly does something, and believe me, if you need him, you’ll know when he has to protect you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Kyungsoo has stopped many criminals with just one or two bullets. He likes to shoot in the legs and in the arms too,” Chanyeol says and he seems to be a bit scared. “He sees everything. If you meet him, he doesn’t say much, but he can hear people talking on the other side of the street.”

“Is he a hybrid too?” Jongin asks quietly.

“Ah, he would hate it if he knew I was talking about him,” Chanyeol says. “But yeah, he is. You know Yifan only works with hybrids. But most people don’t see Kyungsoo’s hybridity. He’s… quiet and gentle, so—”

“Let me see,” Jongin asks suspiciously. “So you’re telling me people don’t know he’s a hybrid because he’s gentle? So, what scary species he belongs to?”

“Promise me you won’t freak out,” Chanyeol says carefully.

“No,” Jongin answers quickly.

“He’s…” Chanyeol sighs heavily. “Look, he’s a shark, but he’s not like how people make shark hybrids out to look.”

Jongin widens his eyes and blinks slowly. He’s gaping.

“A shark?” Jongin stands up, rubbing his face. “You’re telling me… that… a shark hybrid is following me, and watching every little thing I do?”

“Jongin, calm down.”

“No,” Jongin says, almost laughing. “They put a—”

“Look, he’s a friend of mine,” Chanyeol grabs Jongin’s hand and moves it down, as if he wants to make Jongin sit down. “I would trust Kyungsoo with my life, he’s the best—”

“Chanyeol, you’re a fucking dog,” Jongin is rising his voice. “You trust people way too much!”

“Jongin, sit down,” he says finally. Jongin takes a deep breath and sits. He’s sweating and his heart is beating fast. “Pay attention. Kyungsoo is the best man in our team. It doesn’t matter if he’s a shark hybrid. He’s there to protect you.”

“Do you think,” Jongin passes his fingers through his hair, “that this information calms me down?”

“It should,” Chanyeol says. “Because just like you, people treat him nicely until they know what he is.”

Jongin gapes at him.

“You don’t want to compare us—”

“Yes, I do,” Chanyeol says, too serious. “Kyungsoo is a respectful and kind man. I’ve known him since I was a teenager. He may be a bit scary at first, but it’s just an impression. Actually, I find him cute.”

Jongin snorts, “You want to convince me that a shark hybrid is cute? What else, he’s also vegetarian?”

“No. He’s obsessed with meat,” Chanyeol says. “He’s a shark. He likes meat, he has bad sight, he’s doesn’t like when people invade his space or touch him, and he has the best nose you have ever heard about. And that’s all. Like I’m a dog, but that doesn’t mean I eat my own shit.”

Jongin rolls his eyes. Chanyeol smiles.

“He has a hard time because people get scared when they find out he’s a shark, and trust me, he’s… He has a big heart. He has never hurt a person who didn’t deserve it. And you’ll be safe with him. I guarantee he won’t bother you more than necessary.”

Jongin admits defeat. It’s hard to refute this argument, being who he is. All Jongin’s done in his life is try to prove his worth despite what people thought. They talked about the color of his skin, his ‘big’ body, his lack of delicacy and his vulgarity - while he was doing exactly the same thing his colleagues did.

“How is a person with bad sight keeping an eye on me?” He mocks.

“Using advanced technology,” Chanyeol says, stealing Jongin’s shrimp. “Glasses.”

 

 

.

 

The first messages come to his phone when Jongin is cleaning his house – or just trying to put some order to his mess. Taemin is coming; he has little time to visit, but it’s a tradition. They grew up as bestfriends, and they both intend to die as bestfriends. Jongin just hopes it happens when he’s old.

A small bird sound. He picks his phone.

 

 **dks.** _Hello, Kim Jongin. It’s Kyungsoo. I’m a part of the security team._

 **dks.** _You left your windows open when you slept last night._

 **dks.** _I need you to close them, at least your rooms, tonight._

 **dks.** _A neighbor of yours likes to go on walks in the corridor at night too._

 

Jongin reads it, a bit shocked. He wasn’t expecting this; he just reads it and ignores it for now. It’s easy, because after few minutes, Chanyeol opens the door, allowing Taemin to come in. Taemin is smiling, as always, tucked in a big sweater that only shows his tiny fingers full of rings. He’s rarely in a bad mood and it’s contagious.

“You can inspect me deeper next time, Chanyeol,” he mocks. “I’m fine with it.”

“Sorry,” Chanyeol laughs, embarrassed, shaking his head. “I was instructed to inspect anyone.”

“No problem,” Taemin shrugs.

“I’ll leave you two alone, anything you just need to call me,” Chanyeol says, closing the door.

Jongin lets himself fall into his bestfriend’s arms. He needed this type of comfort and Taemin may be unpredictable sometimes, but he never fails to be a touch starved baby.

“There, there,” Taemin says, rubbing Jongin’s back. “How are you doing, honey?”

Jongin sighs.

“It’s been hell,” Jongin says, resting his head on Taemin’s shoulder. “I can’t have privacy, I can’t do anything on my own, I’m scared…”

“I still can’t believe that letter was real,” Taemin mumbles. “It didn’t feel like it was serious.”

“It sounded pretty serious to me.”

“So you’re being hunted down…” Taemin laughs. Jongin isn’t offended. “I guess you have to enjoy life now, so you make this worthy.”

“I can’t even pee without warning people,” Jongin pushes Taemin gently. “I have a homemade meal for you because guess what? I can’t order food anymore.”

“That’s so sad,” Taemin says, pretending to be touched. Jongin slaps him playfully. It’s good to have his friend with him – so Jongin can feel a bit safer and relaxed. Taemin has a lot to say, because he was on an international tour, full of funny stories about not speaking the language, getting lost, and just enjoying new places.

“Serious talk,” Taemin says. “Are you really going to be locked up forever?”

“I don’t know,” Jongin breathes out. “I’m scared, but this is…”

“You don’t like being controlled,” he says softy. “I know you. It’s just a matter of time before you start to attack people around you, and then become the threat yourself.”

Jongin laughs sincerely.

“You asshole,” he says, still chuckling. “I’ll have to go on tour, after all. My first presentation is in a week. But at least I won’t have to leave the town, now.”

“Are you afraid to travel?”

“Not really, but,” Jongin looks around. The window is open. “At least here I’m in my home. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable it will be when I have to go through this in a foreign place, a hotel room…”

Taemin eats slowly. Jongin kicks him lightly on the knee.

“What?”

“You don’t sound worried about me.”

“I’m not,” Taemin says serious. “At least not about the threat. I’m sure Junmyeon found the best people to take care of you. After all, I received threats too, I know it’s a part of being famous. To be honest, I’m more worried about the harm you can do to yourself.”

Jongin just looks down.

“… What are you punishing yourself for now?” Taemin reaches out to touch his head, messing with his hair. “Every time you’re just working harder and harder, I can see how tired you look, and if you have to deal with just one more thing, at least talk about it.”

“I just… I made mistakes while I was presenting to Yoona,” he says. “I want to die. She just left and I’ll have to explain next rehearsal that it wasn’t a part of the choreography. It was a fucking mistake.”

“That’s all?” Taemin laughs.

“Don’t laugh, okay? You know I can’t afford mistakes,” he says quietly. “Especially in front of her. I’ll have to correct the other dancers and tell them about my mistake too.”

“It happens, Jongin,” Taemin says softly. “No one is expecting you to be the best at it. You’re just starting your first solo tour. She and your dancers are older and experienced and—”

“Exactly. They can’t see me as someone as a failure,” he sighs, trembling. “I can’t fail or they’ll lose the respect I fought so hard to get. The tour is just beginning and I have to prove my worth.”

“You have worth. You’re great. You’re there and your fans will come to see you because you’re great,” Taemin says and now he’s completely serious. “You can’t let a mistake make you question your whole career. You’re not perfect and that’s fine. This is the moment to make mistakes: when you’re in rehearsal.”

“Still,” Jongin starts to say, and he has to bite his lip because he just wants to cry. Taemin hugs him, and Jongin just cries for a few long minutes, trying to exorcise this feeling.

“You need to date,” Taemin says suddenly. “You’re too lonely. This weird crush on your bodyguard and in your coworker isn’t healthy.”

“Fuck you,” Jongin says. “I don’t have—”

“ _Oh, I can’t live without Chanyeol_ ,” Taemin says exaggeratedly. “ _What am I going to do now that Yoona knows I’m not perfect?_ ”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jongin snorts.

 

 

Seeing his bestfriend helps a lot, and Jongin spends his whole evening checking important things for the presentation. He dances for just an hour, so his body doesn't get too rested. He puts a meal in the oven and sits in his room, checking his phone.

A small bird sound. A message pops up.

 **dks.** _You forgot the food. It’s burning._

Jongin jumps off the couch and runs to the kitchen – he can stop the fire, but he can’t save the meal. He’s feeling frustrated, hungry and sad, so he just walks to his bed and falls over it. He’ll sleep a lot so he can go back to his normally energized mood.

 

 

He wakes up still sad, still frustrated. He takes off his clothes because he shouldn’t have slept with them on, picks up a towel, and walks to the bathroom.

He almost screams when he notices the man sitting at the table.

It’s Zitao.

“How long have you been there?” Jongin says, clutching his chest.

“A long time,” he says, bored. “You have things to do and I’m supposed to take you with me.”

“Can’t you just wait outside?” Jongin covers himself. “I’m almost naked.”

“Oh. A male body,” Zitao says unimpressed. “This is the first time I've seen it.”

Jongin rolls his eyes and walks to the bathroom. He takes a long shower, just to get back at his bodyguard. He’s walking back when he smells food.

“What’s that?” He walks in the room, sniffing. “I can smell sea food.”

“This?” Zitao points to the table. “Kyungsoo cooked while you were asleep. Don’t forget to thank him, not everybody has this privilege. Kyungsoo’s food is really tasty.”

Jongin stares at the package on the table; it’s covered by a tissue and has a tiny paper on it. He picks it up and reads what’s written on it; it’s just the list of ingredients.

“Sea food…” Jongin mumbles. “Ah, he made my favorite. How?”

“We know everything about you,” Zitao sighs. He looks annoyed, and Jongin feels suddenly guilty for being ungrateful.

“I burned my food yesterday,” Jongin explains. “I went to sleep without eating.”

“That explains why he did it,” Zitao whispers.

“Are you jealous?” Jongin snorts. “Is this guy your boyfriend?”

“No, he’s not. But I would love to have someone cooking for me,” Zitao says, almost pouting. “I’m hungry all the time.”

Jongin sits in the other chair. He’s glad he cleaned the house, otherwise everyone would know he’s a mess – his home is a public place, now.

“We can share,” Jongin says. “I can’t eat that much. I follow a diet and this is an extravagance.”

Zitao stares at him for a moment before smiling.

 

 

**kji:** _thanks for cooking for me_

 **kji:** _it was delicious_

 **kji:** _it’s Jongin, by the way_

 **kji:** _Tao said it’s not your turn yet_

 **kji:** _ah, thanks for warning me abt the burning food_

Jongin keeps his phone in the pocket. He can’t be distracted – it’s his night presentation and he has to face some of his worst fears. As he walks to the stage, he faces a small and selected public. Only his backup dancers, the staff, and his choreographer, Yoona. There’s no way she can’t be seen first; she’s probably the most beautiful woman in any place she goes. A hybrid, like him. A swan, like him. A respected dancer, unlike him. While Jongin is fully embraced by the nation and sees his popularity popping in each phone call asking for his face to sell products, famous people in his own area look at him as the biggest joke.

Her long, pale neck is exposed when she sits straight to see him. He stutters his apologies. He anticipated this moment, imagining them accusing him of being an impostor, but nothing happens. The judgement, good or bad, stay in their eyes.

He puts himself in position.

Breathes in.

And dances, because that’s just natural for him. He’s worried, he’s tense, but this time he’s flawless. The second time, the backup dancers follow him – the usual routine. The staff takes notes, observes, and he never takes a look at Yoona.

When the presentation is finished, he bows and stays like that until they clap.

“Is this the final version?” A staff’s voice cuts the silence after they stop.

“Yes,” Jongin says, lifting his head.

“Rehearsal’s tomorrow,” he says simply. “Now, I want the audiovisual team, not only the musicians. We only have one week.”

“Understood,” Jongin whispers. His quiet days – if he can consider these days quiet – are over. He stands and breathes out, closing his eyes. It’s time to leave his nest. He fixes his comfortable black clothes and runs to Yoona, who’s silently leaving. She stands tall on her high heels, but he’s taller. That doesn’t help; there’s always a distance between them, something that makes her unreachable. He calls her name and she turns calmly. In her long pearl coat and messy bun, she still stands like a queen.

“Nice presentation,” she says. “I like the changes you made.”

He only hopes she’s not mocking his mistakes.

“Thank you,” he says. “But you don’t look very impressed.”

“I can see you’re distressed,” she sighs. “You’re distracted.”

“Yes,” he mumbles.

“You can’t afford to be distracted when you’re on stage,” she deadpans. “I hope you take care of this matter.”

“I will,” he nods.

“Also, you’re looking…” she narrows her eyes, searching for words. “Fragile.”

Jongin skips a breath. Yoona doesn’t seem to notice.

“… I don’t know. I used to see you as a bit robust. Remember that this dance incorporates force and traditionalism. If I wanted delicacy, I would have chosen someone else.”

He just stares. Her expression softens.

“You did well,” she says. “But you can do better.”

She bows and turns, leaving like nothing happened. Jongin watches her, just breathing, regaining his control.

When he comes back to grab his things, there are new messages on the phone.

 

 **dks.** _No problem._

 **dks.** _I can’t let you starve or burn yourself._

 **dks.** _Ask for someone to take out the trash for you._

.

On the third day of rehearsals, Jongin is way too tired to do anything but stay on the couch.

“Go take a bath,” Chanyeol says, mocking. “You stink.”

Jongin takes his shoes off by rubbing his feet on the arm of the couch. The bodyguard picks them up and puts them on the corner.

“I’m hungry,” Jongin announces.

“I’m your bodyguard, not your babysitter,” Chanyeol says. “Also, I can’t be here with you. I have to stay outside.”

“What if the crazy guy jumps in?” Jongin points. “I’ll be alone here.”

“If Spiderman wants to kill you, he must have a reason,” Chanyeol says before leaving. Jongin laughs, alone in the room. He doesn’t even have the strength to put on music. His books are in a pile all over the table, accumulating. He’s truly tired.

He looks up at the window. What if there was someone watching?

He closes his eyes.

 

 

 

 

Jongin wakes up.

The alarm is ringing, but it seems to have been ringing for a while. No sign of any bodyguards inside the house. He sits up; his body is still sore, still hurting. He feels… horrible. In a few hours, he will go to rehearsal again and he’s so tired he can’t move. It’s a cold day, and under his blanket, he can’t find a reason to leave his house. This is one of the moments he just wants to curl up and stay there, forever.

He looks down at the blanket and realizes he didn’t had one before. The window is also closed. Jongin smiles. Chanyeol complains about Jongin’s behavior, but he’s a good friend. When Jongin thinks about the people who looks out for him, he finds the strength to continue.

He gets up and stretches his arms high, warming up. He really needs a shower.

On the room’s table, he finds a meal.

Jongin beams, happy, picking up the spoon – it’s soup. As he moves it closer, a paper appears under it; a list of ingredients, written in neat calligraphy.

Oh.

 

 

Jongin eats, takes a bath, dresses himself, and meets Tao at the door. Zitao is infuriately well-dressed as any other day, waiting patiently.

“Sorry,” Jongin says. “I fell asleep on the couch.”

“Not the best place,” Zitao says gently. “How’s your back?”

“Sore.”

“I see.”

They start to walk again.

“Kyungsoo told me you haven’t been eating lately,” Zitao says suddenly. “Did you eat breakfast today?”

“Yes,” Jongin mumbles. “I guess he was the one who did it.”

“Probably,” he nods. “I’ll order food for you today. Don’t forget that we have to pass by your manager office before coming here.”

“Yes, I won’t forget. Thank you,” Jongin says absently. His mind is full of thoughts, and he only asks when they’re in the car. “How are the turns divided? I mean between you, Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo?”

“Me and Chanyeol accompany you by day and take care of your house by night - of course, not at the same time,” Zitao says. “We have to sleep.”

“How about Kyungsoo?” Jongin asks.

“Mostly at night. But during the day, he’s the one who chooses. He doesn’t like to say when he’s working.”

Jongin is quiet again. He has to focus on his work, but he still has many questions. Yoona isn’t there, nor the staff, and because of that, they’re more relaxed, more at ease. His body hurts less, but everytime he thinks about what’s coming, his stomach hurts, anxiety creeps up his neck.

Zitao is waiting for him. They go to Junmyeon’s office and Jongin inspects his own bag many times. He almost forgot about what happened, since his routine is so exhausting.

Junmyeon is a comfortable vision in these arid, painful days.

“Tomorrow you’ll talk about the presentation on the show,” he gives Jongin a bunch of papers. He’s wearing casual clothes, even in his workplace, because he can. “There’s the full script. You know the MC. Try to follow the questions.”

Jongin just nods.

“What am I going to say?”

“Also there,” Junmyeon side hugs him. It’s a warm embrace and Jongin melts. “How are you?”

“Just tired,” he smiles.

“And how about the team? Everything okay?”

“Yes. They’re nice. I’m grateful.”

“I’m glad to know,” Junmyeon smiles too. “I’ve been talking to Yifan. They’ll be with you when you leave the country too.”

Jongin tries his best to keep the smile on his face.

“Great.”

“Treat them nicely,” Junmyeon says, serious. “They’re working hard on keeping you safe.”

“I know.”

“Go home and relax, for now.”

 

 

That’s what Jongin does.

Zitao stays at the door. It seems that he knows he doesn’t have Chanyeol’s privileges. Jongin is almost regretful of that, because his home seems empty, big… dark. He sits on the couch and turns on the television.

He suddenly remembers the blanket and grabs his phone.

 

 **kji.** _Thanks for being nice to me again._

 **kji.** _You didn’t have to._

 **dks.** _No problem._

Jongin looks up again, staring at the window.

 

 **kji.** _Sorry for asking, but_

 **kji.** _Can you see me now?_

 **dks.** _Yes._

Jongin heart beats faster. He tries to calm himself down. It’s just a bodyguard. He’s there to keep Jongin safe.

_Safe._

**kji.** _If you can see me, can’t other people see me too?_

 **dks.** _No._

 **kji.** _How can you be so sure?_

 **dks.** _Because I would see them too._

Well, that’s a nice argument.

 

 **kji.** _Okay. Thank you._

 **kji.** _Should I close the window?_

 **dks.** _Yes._

 **kji.** _Then are you going to see me?_

 **dks.** _I’m not going to watch you with my eyes._

 **kji.** _What?_

 **dks.** _I can smell you, hear you, and sense you._

 **kji.** _That’s… not making me feel safe._

 **dks.** _I’m not here to make you feel safe._

 

Jongin stares at his phone, speechless. He’s tired, he’s hungry, he’s… about to scream. And now that? What the hell is that supposed to mean? If they’re not…

 

 **kji.** _Okay, fuck you_

 **kji.** _I know you’re not a therapist but fuck this_

 **kji.** _I’ve been threatened and that’s why you’re here, no?_

 **kji.** _If I’m going to be surrounded by predators all day long_

 **kji.** _then why the fuck don't you all just give me to this maniac?_

 **kji.** _What’s the difference between someone like you and whoever wrote that letter?_

 **kji.** _Huh? Because I don’t see any_

 **dks.** _You’re not my prey. They are. That’s the difference._

 **dks.** _I know this may be uncomfortable to hear but it takes a predator to catch a predator._

 **dks.** _Close the windows, eat something and go to sleep._

Jongin hates himself a bit when he does exactly as he’s told.

 

 

 

 

.

 

Not going to rehearsals is even more stressful. Jongin feels guilty to eat in a nice restaurant, he feels guilty for eating and not training… Zitao seems to be comprehensive and sits by Jongin; does small talk. To an outsider, they would be just friends on a fun day. Chanyeol is waiting for him when he’s going to the studio.

“Hey,” Chanyeol smiles. He’s dressed in a suit, which means that now they have to pretend that nothing is happening. “You’ll have a visit in the dressing room, so maybe you want to wait here until you’re less anxious?”

“Okay,” Jongin nods. Chanyeol rubs his shoulders. “Talk about something.”

“About what?” Chanyeol snorts. “The weather?”

“No,” Jongin says serious. “Talk about Kyungsoo.”

“Huh?” Chanyeol blinks. “Why Kyungsoo?”

“Because I had a fight with him last night,” Jongin says, too tired to lie. “I’m curious to know how he is.”

“You mean you fought with him. Kyungsoo is peaceful. He never picks fights.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jongin shrugs. “Talk about him. How does he look like?”

“Short.”

“Chanyeol, you say that about everyone.”

Chanyeol laughs, “this time it’s true.”

“Fine,” Jongin smiles. He’s a bit more relaxed. “And…?”

“He’s short, has big eyes. At first, I thought he was an owl. He does enjoy working at night,” Chanyeol says softly. “He has a nice voice. He’s really cute, like a doll.”

Jongin laughs hard. Chanyeol smiles, confused.

“What?”

“You’re honestly calling that guy ‘cute like a dog’. He’s a shark!”

“I know. But he looks like a baby shark. Very cute.”

“Ah, Chanyeol. You… you’re really a dumb dog,” Jongin raises his hand to pet Chanyeol’s head. He knows that his bodyguard has a sensible point behind his big ears. “I can’t trust your opinion.”

Chanyeol beams, but he contests.

“I’m serious! He’s not threatening at all in person.”

“Well, maybe he’s not threating for you, a big man.”

“Jongin,” Chanyeol says, trying to open his eyes, but way too deep in his appreciation of being petted. “You’re a big man, too. I know people keep trying to make you a soft, delicate swan—”

“They don’t,” Jongin lets his hand fall. Chanyeol blinks.

“What I’m trying to say… It’s… I know you made your muscles that big by dancing… so they’re kinda… artsy muscles? But you’re tough. Not only physically. You went through too much shit and those people who look down on you never had to face anything. They’re the weak ones.”

Jongin just gulps.

“I love you,” he hugs Chanyeol.

Chanyeol pets his head too.

“Go to the dressing room. It’s a nice surprise.”

 

 

 

 _It is_ a nice surprise. In a nice black coat, round glasses, and soft dimples.

“Yixing,” Jongin runs into his arms, because it’s inevitable. Yixing catches him, smiling.

“How’s my pretty bird doing?” Yixing smiles, hugging Jongin tightly.

“I missed you,” Jongin buries his face in Yixing's coat. He smells good, as always. It’s been a long time since they had last seen each other. Maybe five years; they used to train together at the same academy, but Yixing left to go back to his hometown, and now they barely see each other.

“I missed you, too,” he says softly, but that’s just the way he is.

Jongin finally lets him go. “What are you doing here?”

“Short visit. I can’t stay too long,” Yixing explains. “Unfortunately, I won’t be here for your concert. I have to go to Europe for few months.”

“Oh.”

“I couldn’t just stay here for a few days and not come by to see you,” he smiles. “Ah, every time I see you, you’re taller and prettier. It’s unfair.”

“How can you say that…” Jongin shakes his head. “No one is prettier than you.”

“A big, horrible lie,” Yixing raises his finger playfully. “At least I can see your rehearsal. Yoona told me only good things about you. I was proud like they were talking about my son.”

“You’re not that old. How… how are you?”

It’s always a bit difficult to ask. Jongin knows very well that Yixing goes through the same things as him. He’s popular, famous… but he’s a hybrid. A sheep hybrid between human artists, who always sees their talent as something animalistic.

“I’m great,” he says simply. “I’m on tour, just like you. I’m eating well. My family is healthy.”

“I heard you got a lady back home,” Jongin winks. Yixing shakes his hands dismissively, embarrassed.

“I’m… a… well, I’m too old to be alone,” he chuckles.

“Tell me your secrets.”

“To find yourself a lover?” Yixing hits him lightly on the head. “First, don't overwork yourself to death. Look at you, sounding exhausted already.”

“I’m… not in my best days,” he smiles simply. Yixing looks at him, quiet for a moment.

“What happened?”

“I…” he takes a long breath. He can’t talk about it, not even to a friend like Yixing. “I… can’t…”

Yixing calmly holds him, and Jongin rests his head on his friend’s shoulder. They stay like that until Yixing leaves, and somehow, Jongin feels a lot better than he expected. Yixing promises to call him; Jongin stays quiet while the staff do his makeup and hair.

The show is… exactly as predicted. Jongin laughs, because the MC makes good jokes, he’s happy to see fans, people cheering him up. He’s used to it. It’s his most comfortable mask.

 

 

 

When’s at home, comfortable and sated, he picks up his phone.

 

 **kji.** _I’m sorry about yesterday._

 **kji.** _I’m too anxious about the tour and the letter…_

 **kji.** _I took it out on you and lashed out_

 **kji.** _I know it’s not your fault_

 **kji.** _I didn’t mean to offend you_

 **dks.** _I wasn’t offended._

Jongin doesn’t like the short answer, but he’s almost sure he was forgiven. He can’t sleep. In two days, he’ll be performing and now he can’t think about anything else. He tries to distract himself, calling his sisters and hearing his nephews’ voices. He talks to Taemin, but not for long. Taemin has to rest, like how he should be resting too. On TV, he sees himself dancing in a jeans ad.

Jongin drinks a cup of wine. It’s too late, the sun will rise soon. He opens the window and lets the wind plays with his hair. He expects Kyungsoo to complain, but receives no messages. Maybe today…

 

 **kji.** _Can I sit on the window?_

 **kji.** _I swear I’m not going to fall_

 **dks.** _No._

 **dks.** _Somebody could shoot you._

 **dks.** _Even if I notice them, it’s dangerous._

 **kji.** _Can I go to the rooftop, then?_

 **kji.** _They won’t catch me there_

Kyungsoo takes ten minutes to answer and Jongin’s almost convinced it’s a no.

 

 **dks.** _You go straight there, no stops._

 **dks.** _Don’t make any noises, just go and sit quietly._

 **dks.** _Don’t talk to anyone, Chanyeol is aware that you’re moving._

 **dks.** _I'll give you an hour._

 

Jongin does as he’s told. He takes his glass of wine with him, and sits in a comfortable position, watching the sky turning pink, orange, and then blue. He wishes silently… He wishes he was born a full bird and he could just fly, to go anywhere, to never be stuck as he is.

He rises his hands and points to the sky.

 

 **kji.** _Can you see the sky now?_

 **dks.** _Yes._

 **kji.** _It’s the most beautiful thing in the world._

 **dks.** _It’s beautiful._

 **dks.** _But I’m more into deep waters._

Jongin walks back quietly, and Zitao is waiting for him. He stares at Jongin worriedly.

“You haven’t sleep?”

“I couldn’t,” he shrugs. “Too nervous.”

“Are you drinking…?” Zitao sighs. “Tell me you at least ate something in the last five hours.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Well, go change. We’re leaving in ten minutes,” he says impatiently. “There’s a dinner to commemorate the tour, so you better put nice clothes in your bag today.”

Jongin just nods. He falls asleep own the car, he only eats during the intervals, and he has to dress himself own the studio while he’s clearly exhausted after hours of practice and no sleep. Ziato invades the dressing room, surprising a few backup dancers.

“Why are you taking so long?” He asks, confused.

Jongin just stares at him, sitting in a chair like he’s about to melt.

“Okay, you’re tired, I get it. What else do you need to finish this?”

“Put something on so they can’t see the dark circles,” he points to his face. Zitao nods.

“Where’s the makeup bag?” He asks. Jongin gives it to him. “Now, look up.”

“What are you doing?” Jongin doesn’t try to resist when Zitao grabs his chin and pushes up. “Do you have any idea of how—”

“Shut up,” Zitao says pointedly. “I do my makeup every day, I know what I’m doing.”

Jongin wants to ask a million questions, but he’s too tired. Zitao’s makeup is flawlessly done, so he feels like he can trust his bodyguard.

“Done,” Zitao gets out of his way so he can look at the mirror.

Jongin snorts, “cat eyes?”

“A makeup trick,” he smiles. “Mine are natural, but look, yours are fine too.”

“Thank you,” he says sincerely. He looks good – and that’s the important thing at the moment.

 

 

 

It’s a fancy restaurant, because Junmyeon invited everyone including his fiancée, and she’s hard to please. Jongin smiles a lot, mostly because he’s sure they don’t care about his anxiousness. He can perform very well, even if he’s breaking down - it’s his talent.

His manager hugs him and Jongin tries hard not to fall asleep in his arms. He’s not interested in hearing people talk about the presentation, he avoids the executives, he just drinks in silence. One or two look at him with interested eyes, but they don’t touch him.

Yoona comes late in a pink dress, like she just left a date – which could be true. Most people are dating, touching each other, fucking until passing out. He imagines, sometime, how they would fuck, just by the way they talk or move. Jongin thinks about having sex with many people, but in the end his career comes first, steals his energy and lust.

She talks to the executives first, like he did. She greets Junmyeon and Joohyun and glances at him. Jongin fixes his hair absently until she comes to greet him.

“Hello,” she smiles. “Big night, I see.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “You look nice.”

She looks down at her own dress and winks, “Not nearly as nice as the nation’s face.”

He blushes, but doesn’t avoid her gaze.

“You weren’t in rehearsals these days,” he says casually. “Yixing told me you two met.”

“Yes,” Yoona crosses her arms. “He wanted to talk about work. He asked me to join his tour.”

“Did you say yes?”

“Not yet,” she smiles. “I’m not sure if it’s the right time.”

“I would need you,” Jongin says. “And you wouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t think you need me…” She stares at him. “You’re a grown man now, Jongin. You’re good on your own.”

He wants to ask if she actually sees him as a man; it doesn’t seem to be the case. They have a four-year age gap, and they’re both in their twenties, even if she’s in the late twenties. It’s not about their age, it’s not about hierarchy – there’s a difference between them that makes her untouchable.

Junmyeon calls for Yoona, and she excuses herself, leaving Jongin alone. He drinks the rest of his wine, watching the street under the window and the bars. Even distracted, he hears the click-click of high heels next to him.

He turns and it’s Joohyun, staring at him.

“I’m always impressed by how beautiful you look,” she says quietly. “But today it’s kind of tragic.”

“Is this your way to say I’m ugly today?” He snorts.

“No,” she smiles. “You look beautiful as always. But today it’s the inner dissatisfaction that makes you attractive is reaching a whole new level. It’s just… sad. Have you eaten today?”

“Don’t you have humans like you to annoy with this mom bullshit?” He moves his empty glass. “Not a good time for this.”

“If you need someone to tell you that you should eat,” she grins. “Then you need ‘this mom bullshit’.”

He is about to say ‘fuck you’, but his phone rings. He stares at it. It’s an unknown phone number. Zitao walks in the room, looking around and ignoring the people. Jongin answers the call.

“Hello…”

“ _Hello, Jongin. It’s Kyungsoo,”_ a soothing voice says slowly. “ _First, get away from this window. Then, answer me if you’re okay.”_

“I’m…” he moves away and Joohyun imitates him. “I’m fine.”

“ _Jongin, I've smelled animal blood since I came here. I thought it was the food, but I got closer and noticed it’s getting dried. Do you have any animal food that may be rotting with you?”_

Jongin takes a few minutes to concentrate because he can’t help but look around to see if Kyungsoo is there. There’s only familiar faces, and Jongin knows very well Kyungsoo isn’t visible.

“I… no… I only have my clothes with me,” he mumbles. He watches while Zitao circles their table, sniffing, while people look at him like he’s an alien. Zitao drops to his knees and grabs Jongin’s bag.

“It’s here,” he says. Two security men get closer to inspect.

“They took my bag,” Jongin says. “But there’s only my clothes… I swear…”

“ _I believe you. I’ll call again if needed,”_ Kyungsoo says, and then hung up.

 

After twenty minutes of confusing whispers, Zitao calls Jongin, too serious to be a good thing. The bodyguard guides him to a small room.

“Keep calm,” Zitao says, opening the door.

There’s a table. On the table, the head of a swan. It’s stinking and blood dried. Jongin covers his mouth.

“It was between your clothes,” he explains slowly. “They didn’t send any letter this time.”

Jongin breathes slowly, staring at the dead animal. It’s… disgusting. He was carrying this with him. Someone put this in his bag again.

“Do you know who…?” Jongin whispers.

“Unfortunately, today was a busy day own the studio,” he says slowly. “And you left your bag unattended here, too.”

“If there’s no letter, how do I know it’s the same person?” He asks sincerely, turning back. He’s sick.

“It was the same approach, the same technique,” Zitao licks his lips, nervous. “They took the eyes out too. Like…”

“Yes,” Jongin nods. “What do I do now?”

“We’ll go home,” he says softly. “And then you’ll sleep and act like nothing happened. We’ll take care of the rest. Chanyeol will be with you during your concert.”

“I’m tired,” Jongin mumbles and for a second, he believes he won’t be able to walk.

 

 

 

 

 

Insomnia is his only company.

Chanyeol is outside of the house, like the guard dog he is; Taemin is unreachable. Jongin can’t talk to his family, he’s beyond too tired to pretend that he’s not. He lays in his bed, covers his body, and stares at the ceiling. He even put on a song, soft and soothing, but sometimes his body can’t just… rest. He’s so used to moving all the time that he just can’t be stopped.

He looks at the window. The night is quiet outside, and the soft song bothers him. It’s Edith Piaf and makes his heart hurt; he’s suddenly reminded of the vastity of the world outside while he’s there, in bed. His mind tells him he must rest, but his body wasn’t made to be there… his body knows better.

He feels deeply lonely, he can’t see himself as a person, but simply a concept. The man dancing on the television, the smiling face on the magazine, the man locked in a room.

Jongin closes his eyes. Unable to sleep, he stares at the window… maybe…

 

 **kji.** _hey_

 **kji.** _Can you see me now?_

 **dks.** _Yes._

 **kji.** _Do you like music?_

 **dks.** _Very much._

 **kji.** _Can you hear what’s playing?_

 **dks.** _A French musician._

 **dks.** _It’s nice._

 **kji.** _I thought you would track the person who put that thing in my bag_

 **dks.** _I already did._

 **kji.** _Do you know who did it???_

 **dks.** _Not their name or face._

 **dks.** _I have the smell. It was a human._

Jongin stares at the wall. A human?

 

 **kji.** _That doesn’t make any sense._

 **dks.** _It does. But you shouldn’t be thinking about that._

 **kji.** _Sorry but what else can I think about_

 **dks.** _I can’t help with that, I’m not here to entertain you._

 **kji.** _You’re very sincere, like waaaaay too sincere_

 **dks.** _Is it bad?_

 **kji.** _NO!_

 **dks.** _Good._

 **kji.** _Why can’t you be here?_

 **dks.** _‘here?’_

 **kji.** _With the rest of the team_

 **dks.** _I need to find a place where I can smell you and everyone in a good distance._

 **dks.** _And you would distract me._

 **kji.** _Like… I’m doing right now?_

 **kji.** _I’m sorry!!_

 **kji.** _I just need to talk now, I wouldn’t normally talk with you, I barely talk to Zitao_

 **dks.** _You can talk to me. I wasn’t talking about that._

Jongin stares at his phone, expecting an explanation. He thinks he must get used to Kyungsoo’s short answers.

 

 **kji.** _Hey, so you’re like… saying that my bare presence would bother you?_

 **kji.** _Hopefully it’s in a positive way_

 **dks.** _Yes._

 **kji.** _Hey are you saying I’m attractive?_

 **dks.** _Yes._

Induced by lack of sleep, anxiety and shyness, Jongin blushes. It’s dumb – he hears about his attractiveness at least five times a day.

 

 **kji.** _Are you hitting on me?_

 **dks.** _No._

 **kji.** _Uh. Kind of harsh._

Kyungsoo doesn’t answer because he doesn’t have to. Jongin knows very well he’s just ranting like a kid.

 

 **kji.** _Everyone in the team is very attractive too_

 **kji.** _The dragon guy is so hot, but kind of scary!_

 **kji.** _I’m sorry if I’m talking shit_

 **kji.** _I’m really nervous, I can’t talk that much in person_

 **kji.** _You can ignore me if I’m being annoying_

 **dks.** _I’m listening._

 **dks.** _I can’t ignore you._

Kyungsoo is probably talking about the fact he was paid to protect Jongin, but that doesn’t stop Jongin from spending an entire hour sending him random messages. Kyungsoo is monosyllabic, but that’s probably how’s he supposed to act during work.

Jongin changes the playlist, goes to the bathroom, and falls in the bed over the blankets.

He wakes up in the same position a few hours later, when his alarm starts ringing. He gets out of the bed and tries to get dressed before Zitao starts invading his house.

When he’s leaving, he notices the closed window.

He smiles at no one.

 

 

 

 

 

The last day is the worst.

Everyone is a ball of nerves and Jongin can’t feel safe. They do the last rehearsal, and he’s too tired to do anything else, but he checks every detail before leaving for dinner.

“So, today I can eat out?” Jongin asks, almost mocking, when he sees the place.

“I know that no one here will try to poison your food,” Zitao says, holding Jongin’s shoulders while walking. It seems to be a friendly, playful gesture, but Jongin is aware that he’s being protected.

“Why are you so sure?”

“It’s Chanyeol’s family restaurant,” Zitao says casually, opening the door. “Avoid the windows or Kyungsoo will try to kick my ass again.”

Jongin isn’t sure if he’s shocked to find out such basic information about Chanyeol after all this time around him, or because he just found out something about Kyungsoo.

“Chanyeol’s family?” Jongin blinks. “Kyungsoo is mad?”

Zitao guides him by the arm and makes him sit down before talking. They pick a corner table.

“Yeah, it’s not like he works here,” Zitao says, staring at the menu. “Pizza? Or just pasta? Maybe they have lasagna…”

“Anything you want,” Jongin says, because he couldn’t care less about his diet in a moment like this. “Why is Kyungsoo mad?”

“He was angry because I didn’t recognize the smell while I was around you,” Zitao says and there’s a hint of frustration on his voice. “If I had noticed soon, maybe we would know where it happened.”

“Oh,” Jongin nods.

“My nose isn’t as good as his, but I guess he was right. I wasn’t expecting such a thing,” Zitao sighs heavily. “It’s really upsetting to be called out by him. He’s a scary little guy.”

“Chanyeol said he was cute,” Jongin snorts.

“Kyungsoo? I do agree he is cute,” Zitao says. “Mostly when he’s distracted. He’s too serious, so when he’s angry, it’s a bit threatening.”

“He has a nice voice,” Jongin mumbles.

“True. He could be a singer, but he’s not a fan of being in the spotlight,” Zitao finally asks for a pizza; Jongin can’t pay attention, thinking about what he just heard. When the waiter leaves, he continues. “I wanted to be a famous star too.”

“You?” Jongin rises an eyebrow. Well, that explains a lot. “I can see that.”

“Not my parents. I started fighting as a kid, as it was expected of me.”

Zitao says casually, like that couldn’t hurt him anymore. Jongin just looks away. He notices more people from the security team in the restaurant. He pushes his cap down, looking at his own hands.

“I only have two presentations here, now,” he says almost whispering. “What happens when I have to travel? Which one of you will go with me?”

“You shouldn't worry about that,” Zitao says, too happily. The pizza is coming. “Think about your job. Nothing else matters.”

 

 

 

 

 

The first thing Jongin does when he sees Chanyeol is slap him.

“Ouch,” he pouts. “What did I do?”

“You never told me about your family restaurant,” Jongin says.

“What did you think I was doing when I asked if you wanted free pizza?” Chanyeol chuckles. “You’re the one who can’t eat carbs.”

“I would’ve eaten it if you told me,” Jongin whines. Chanyeol shows him his tongue, like a kid.

“Go sleep. You need to rest,” the bodyguard says. “Tomorrow is the big day.”

 

Jongin takes your time to relax. He puts on music, drinks his last glass of wine – he usually doesn't touch alcohol while he’s on tour -, and even eats chocolate.

He walks to his room, opens his closet, and takes a little box from under his folded bedsheet. Sitting in bed, naked, he opens it carefully.

He takes out his strawberry scented lube, so horny he won’t even need to watch anything. He’s enjoying the silence, he wants to hear only his own noises.

He lays on the bed, legs out and spread open, and rubs his hand all over his cock, slowly. He’s got chills and his other hand wanders on his own chest, ghosting over the nipples. He strokes himself slowly and hard, rubbing his feet on the carpet and licking his lips. He’s in need, unsatisfied and touching himself in times like this tastes like a torture.

Jongin suddenly remembers he’s being watched.

His body jerks in surprise and he feels scared… and even more excited.

He sits up, grabs the box with his dry hand and picks up a small dildo with the lubed hand. It’s transparent, flexible and he loves the texture. He spreads more lube onto it, because he’ll need it. He puts his feet on the bed, now, bending his knees and lifting hips before circling his hole with his index finger. It’s easy to put one, two… even three fingers in when they’re slippery like this, but he needs some time to slide the dildo in. His body is on fire, precum dripping on his belly and he just wants to…

Jongin bits his lips when the dildo goes in completely, because he wants to be quiet. It’s hard to fuck himself and touch himself at the same time when he’s in this position; his arms hurt. He doesn’t mind. He closes his eyes and can imagine a stranger fucking him, a stranger that he can’t see the face of, but can feel their gaze.

His legs shake, and he can’t help but gasp when he comes, burying the dildo the deepest he can inside of him.

The post orgasm is good, relaxing, but he can’t feel sated.

He gives up on taking a bath. He takes off the dirty bedsheet, washes up his hands and the dildo, and returns the box to the closet. He sleeps naked, smelling like sweat and cum and before he closes his eyes, he hopes Kyungsoo can smell him from wherever he’s hidden.

 

 

 

 

Jongin wakes up in a good mood.

 

He takes a long shower and chooses a nice outfit. Zitao drives him to the theater, where he’s more than happy to get ready. He’ll do a live, will talk to everyone before he dresses from the first part. He checks his things twice, because he doesn’t want any bad surprises. He receives flowers from his parents, even if they aren’t allowed to come backstage. He hopes he can see them when he’s dancing. Zitao is walking with him, and Jongin greets the people who came to see him.

The first presentation is simultaneously the best and the worst.

He reunites with the backup dancers and the staffs and thanks them. There’s nothing else he’s supposed to say, or he would tell them. He’s grateful, that’s all.

On the stage, he’s no longer afraid. If there’s something he has never doubted, it’s that he was born to perform; he moves intently and, in his short breaks, he looks for familiar faces. He can see his family, some of his old colleagues, and the executives and their partners. Zitao and Chanyeol are there too, close to the stage.

When the end is near, Jongin feels like he wants time to stop.

His last part is his solo. All eyes are on him.

This bittersweet feeling.

 

The curtains close. He hears the clapping, but he can’t see anything. The backup dancers come to hold hands and bow. Jongin is too distracted to notice that the clapping has stopped. When the curtains are open, he just stares at the mess.

Zitao is holding a man down, right in front of the stage. The man screams. Next to them, a small bucket is leaking a red liquid. People are standing, as shocked as him. Chanyeol comes from nowhere and holds Jongin, pushing him away.

“What happened,” he asks, still being guided by Chanyeol. “What’s happening?”

“A man was getting ready to throw something on you and the dancers,” he says, pushing Jongin back to his dressing room. “Stay here.”

He closes the door.

Jongin looks around; he’s alone. He sits down and tries to digest what just happened. No one comes for a while, and he’s just getting more nervous and nervous. His phone is on the table, in the same spot he left it.

 

 **kji.** _Kyungsoo, please_

 **kji.** _What the hell is happening?_

Kyungsoo doesn’t answer. Jongin starts to cry.

 

 **kji.** _Please_

 **dks.** _It was just a prankster, we’re taking care of him._

 **dks.** _Everyone is safe. So are you._

Twenty minutes later, Zitao opens the door. He picks a seat, and moves it closer to Jongin before sitting down.

“How are you, dear?” He asks softly.

“Confused,” Jongin sniffs. “Scared.”

“I’m sorry for what happened today,” Zitao says. “But it wasn’t a real threat. A YouTube prankster was trying to throw red paint on the stage during the ovation.”

“Why?” Jongin gulps. This never happened before – not even in a stadium.

“He said he was paid by a stranger as a challenge. He was going to post it on his channel, and this person would pay him more,” Zitao says slowly. “We checked it, and he’s telling the truth.”

“Oh my god,” Jongin mutters. “How did no one notice that?”

“He wasn’t carrying any arm. He just had a paint bucket in his fake belly. He was dressed like a pregnant woman,” Zitao sighs deeply. “He’s just a complete imbecile. I’m glad I broke his arm.”

Jongin is so gone in his shock that he actually laughs at that. Zitao smiles too.

“Unfortunately, we had to disperse the public,” he says carefully. “We will make sure this won’t happen again tomorrow.”

“That’s fine,” Jongin nods. “At least they’re safe.”

“You’re going home now,” Zitao stands up. “You can choose anything you want for dinner.”

 

Jongin formally apologizes on the internet and his team explains what happened. Still, he can’t help but feel sad. He asks for sea food for him and his bodyguards and obligates them to eat with him.

“I like sea food, but real meat is the best,” Zitao says, munching.

“Agree,” Chanyeol says, spitting some rice. They’re sitting next to each other and it’s funny how they accidentally hit each other, because they’re big and clumsy.

Jongin shrugs, “I can’t help but have the best taste. Are you guys complaining?”

“About a free meal?” Zitao laughs. “Never.”

“I miss when we could do that more often,” Chanyeol says quietly, which is always a bit weird. “But I also trust Yifan. I bet we can go back to our fun routine soon.”

Jongin chews slowly. “What does he think about what’s happening?”

Chanyeol and Zitao exchange glances.

“It’s better if you don’t know,” Chanyeol says, serious. “It would be a source of anxiety for you. When he could talk, when we could be sure…”

“Okay,” Jongin licks his lips. “How about you?”

“We’re not paid to think about anything,” Chanyeol points. “We have an intelligence team.”

“You can see why Chanyeol was hired to do this job,” Zitao says, eating a piece of his roll. Chanyeol growls at him. Jongin laughs.

“Can’t Kyungsoo eat with us?” Jongin asks casually.

“Well, he’s a food enthusiast,” Zitao smiles. “But he’s not… interested in socializing if it’s not needed.”

“I feel like I’m dealing with a ghost,” Jongin complains. “Tell me something, is he hot? If I have to fantasize about how he looks like, I need to know.”

“I would fuck him,” Chanyeol munches.

“You would fuck a lot of people, you horny dog,” Zitao slaps him. They start a growling fight. Jongin laughs hard.

“He’s hot like… huh… Choi Minho?” Jongin asks. Now, Chanyeol and Zitao are the ones who laugh. “What?”

“Kyungsoo is short,” Zitao says. “He’s small and thick. He’s attractive, manly but… not… in that way.”

“In my mind he was aggressively hot.”

“Why?” Chanyeol frowns, messing with his food. “Kyungsoo is normally very gentle. Did he do something?”

“No…” Jongin explains quickly. To be honest, Kyungsoo was very gentle with him – very patient too. “I don’t know. Since you told me he was a shark…”

“Ah, that again,” Zitao moves his chopsticks around, nervous. “You’re very prejudicial sometimes, Jongin. He doesn’t need to be aggressive because he’s a shark. You sound like those people who have hybrid kinks.”

“Ah,” Chanyeol makes a sad face. “He does…”

“I don’t have kinks like that,” Jongin blushes. “I mean, I know people are into knots and everything, but I never tried to hit on any of you…”

“First,” Zitao lifts his chopsticks. “I have a barb, not a knot. I’m a big cat, not a _canine_. Don’t put me next to Chanyeol in your list of weird dicks.”

“Also, no one hits on me because of my knot,” Chanyeol pouts. “They do because I’m hot.”

“You are,” Jongin nods. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I’m not even interested in weird dicks.”

“Fuck you,” Zitao says, but he’s laughing.

They finish eating and Chanyeol washes the dishes, but Jongin still thinks about what they were talking about.

“What does a shark dick look like?”

“Huh?” Chanyeol asks. “What do you mean?”

“It has a knot… or…”

“No. They’re kind of… squashy.”

“What?” Jongin almost jumps off the chair.

“It’s like,” Zitao walks around, trying to burp. He picks a cup and knocks on it. “Your dick grows when it’s hard but a shark’s expands. The cartilage of the organ is soft and the skin around isn’t… attached to it. Before they ejaculate, the entire thing expands and some of them even open.”

“Open?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol shows his wet hands like he’s praying, then puts a little space between them. “Like this.”

“That… sounds scary,” Jongin whispers.

“Well, they also bite you until blood comes out,” Zitao says. “But I do that too, so who am I to judge.”

Jongin laughs.

 

 

But before he falls asleep alone in his room, he chooses the biggest dildo in the box and spreads himself open, thinking about a dick expanding inside of him.

 

 

 

.

 

Junmyeon is the one to visits him in his dressing room before the presentation. He’s looking good, as always, but he doesn’t bring flowers. He looks a bit confused.

“They didn’t let me bring anything,” he scratches his head. “I’m sorry. I wished I could have brought you at least Joohyun’s gift.”

Jongin is just warming up a bit in his stage clothes. He shakes his head.

“That’s fine. I’m too anxious to appreciate it, anyway,” he smiles sadly. Junmyeon hold his shoulders. He looks like a child standing next to Jongin in high heeled boots.

“I’m worried about you,” he says. “I don’t really understand what’s going on, but I wish I could stop it.”

“I know,” Jongin says. “But I guess I should have been prepared for this type of harassment. It’s not an… exception. I know it happens to famous people all the time.”

“You’re becoming too famous for your lifestyle,” Junmyeon says reflexively. “But I haven’t expected anything else from you. Since I saw you for the first time, I knew you would reach the top.”

Jongin smiles, “Thank you for believing in me.”

“Don’t worry about today,” Junmyeon hugs him tight. Jongin moves his body back and forth, rocking them. “Nothing is going to happen when you’re on stage, this time. They’re taking care of everything.”

 

 

 

Junmyeon is right. Despite his anxiousness because of the first stage… no surprises happen. Everything happens as it was expected to. His family is even allowed to visit him after the ovation and Jongin can hug and kiss his nephews like nothing else is happening. The last time Jongin saw them, they were tan because of the beach, now they look pale and chubby. He says hello to old colleagues from his studio and he’s feeling a lot better, besides being sweaty and tired.

Zitao opens the door. He’s serious, but he waits until Jongin talks to everyone so they could be alone in the dressing room.

“What happened this time?” Jongin sighs.

Zitao makes a face.

“Someone sent a bouquet of dead roses,” Zitao says firmly. “We talked with the flower shops around for a bouquet of roses bought on the last days and we’re trying to check who could possibly had sent this. It was in the middle of the other flowers.”

Jongin shakes his head.

“This already happened before,” he says quietly. “It happens quite often with dancers.”

“So I’ve heard,” Zitao says. “But I had to inform you.”

Jongin nods. He wants to says he’s not ignoring the threat, but they heard small knocks on the door.

Zitao asks for an identification. It’s Yoona and he lets her in, leaving soon after.

She seems a bit confused. She’s using a white, long dress and a pearl coat, her hair is permed and she looks out of this world. He would feel bad about not being as clean and immaculate as she looks, but that’s how Yoona sees him every day.

“Hello,” she smiles, walking closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring you flowers. They… took them…”

“Ah, I’m sorry for that,” he smiles too. “They sent a bouquet of dead roses.”

“Oh,” she makes a face. “The classic one.”

“Yes,” he nods.

“It was a great night,” she says gently. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with pranksters.”

“That’s fine,” Jongin walks closer to her. “I’m the one who has to apologize. I don’t mind dead roses, but I was embarrassed to see they could put anyone in harm. I’m sorry for yesterday.”

She makes a weird face.

“I’ve had many of these ‘fans’, if we can call them… fans,” Yoona says quietly and Jongin has to remind himself that she doesn’t know what’s happening, actually. “They’re angry because you’re reaching your goals. They’re… bothered by your success. I guess sometimes they’re a fame thermometer.”

“I know,” he nods, serious.

“Anyway, I think your presentation today was beautiful. You…” she stares at him and there’s something new in her eyes. “I don’t think I have anything else to help you with, Jongin.”

“Don’t say that,” he mumbles. “It’s not true.”

“It is… I think you can do better on your own,” Yoona looks down for a second. “I’ll join Yixing on his world tour. He’s way busier than you and he needs me.”

Jongin touches her arm gently and rubs the soft fabric of her coat, but he doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t seem to be the right moment… She seems to be a bit teary, like this is a real goodbye. He gets even closer and hugs her.

“It’s still shocking for me to see how much you have grown,” she whispers. “I’m proud of you. I’m… I feel useless here. I have to look for new challenges.”

“Would you stay?” Jongin asks softly, passing his fingers through her hair. It’s soft, and he lets his hand fall on her back. “If I asked?”

“No,” she pushes him lightly, so she can look in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see you succeed and now my work is done.”

Jongin stares at her. For a long time, he truly believed they were meant to be. Everyone compared them; their movements, their beauty, their hybridity. He honestly thought they would end up together, eventually. He breaks the distance and kisses her.

It’s a test.

She kisses back, but slightly, just a small reassurance. He’s surprised – he put her high up in the sky and now they seem to be… almost on the same level. Maybe they would be, if he wasn’t so afraid… Now, he feels so insecure that…

He breaks the kiss, but stays in the same place, noses touching.

“Do you enjoy this?” He says quietly but firmly. “Do you enjoy me being torn apart?”

“What?” She whispers.

“Does it turn you on to see me exasperated?” He asks again, now almost smiling. “Are you having fun?”

“Jongin…” She frowns, confused, walking back. “What are you talking about?”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if I needed you? If I was so fragile that I would always depend on you?” He grabs her arm, not so gently this time.

“What?” Yoona stares at him. “Are you out of your mind?”

He grabs both her arms and pulls her close again.

“Look in my eyes and tell me you’re not doing this,” he says slowly.

“Doing what?” She blinks.

“Tell me,” he almost growls.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says loudly. “Let me go.”

He just stares at her. Jongin understands now… that whoever is doing this must be close. Whoever is trying to harm him… is seeing his pain. Yoona seems genuinely confused, but she’s an actress too.

“Let me go,” she repeats, even louder.

Zitao opens the door. Jongin releases his hold and Yoona walks back; both were surprised.

“Any problem?” The bodyguard asks.

“No,” Jongin rubs his face. Yoona walks out of the room without a word. He deserves that.

Zitao is just staring at him, worried. “Are you sure?”

Jongin pushes his hair back way from his face and nods. He’s probably losing his mind.

“I need a drink.”

 

 

 

.

 

He shouldn’t drink. He knows it very well. Yet, he comes home and opens his most expensive bottle of wine; the one he keeps for celebrations. He ignores Zitao’s pleads to eat – Jongin will have to travel in the morning, a twelve-hour flight, and he… couldn’t care less. He wants to drink, he has to relax just for a moment, just for a minute.

He puts on some music, avoiding the quiet chill songs he’s used to. He opens the windows high and he enjoys the rain outside. It’s getting colder and he pushes his body against the window, so he can stick his head out in the rain. He lets the rain wet his hair and cover his tears.

He is so tired. He is infinitely tired. Jongin reaches high just to find out he’ll never live the way he wants or be in the right place. Something is always missing, never allowing him to shine completely, to give the best.

He opens his eyes. Wouldn’t be easier… just to stop trying? He climbs the window, as he did many times before, and the ground looks even further, darker… The city lights almost seem to disappear under the rain, now stronger, angrier.

Jongin closes his eyes. The alcohol is talking to him under his eyelids.

His phone rings.

Jongin immediately jumps back, almost falling over the couch. He looks around, pushing back his wet hair.

His phone keeps ringing. He’s too tired to answer the call. He hears the door opening and runs to the bathroom. His room keys are next to his towel, and Jongin…

“Jongin? Your phone…” He hears Chanyeol’s voice.

“Chanyeol,” Jongin asks from the bathroom. “Can you get my towel in my closet?”

“Oh, of course,” he says. Jongin can hear his carelessly loud steps towards the room and as soon as he hears his closet door open, he gets out of the bathroom. He pushes the door of his room before Chanyeol can turn back and closes it, locking it.

“Jongin?”

He walks back carefully but starts to run when he hears Chanyeol trying to open the door. Chanyeol must be taking Zitao’s turn, so Jongin just takes the stairs to leave the building by the garage. He sees one or two people from the security team, but he knows how to hide from them. Jongin can barely believe when he gets to the next street. The rain is strong on his head and shoulders, but he feels… so free. It’s contagious and he’s in such a euphoric moment that he laughs.

He walks quietly, enjoying the empty sidewalk. Cars pass by, but no one is out late at night, walking in such bad weather. But he has no idea where to go. He looks around and in the dark street, most stores are closed. He’s cold and he wants a coffee. He turns around to see where he can go. Then he sees something.

In the other side of the street, few meters behind Jongin, a man is standing. He’s holding a bag in one hand and an umbrella in another. Jongin rubs his face, trying to see under the rain. A car passes fast and, for a second, the lights hit the stranger face. The short figure is in dark clothes, using glasses. The rain in strong on him too – but the man is frozen, the umbrella in his hand so loosely held that is almost touches the ground.

Jongin steps back, surprised. He turns back and pretends he saw nothing. He keeps walking until he finds a coffee shop.

It’s not a small place, but it’s almost empty. A girl with a small kid is sitting in the corner, a boy is ordering, and Jongin ignores them and goes to the bathroom to dry his face and what he can. He looks for his phone, but he remembers he left at home. He has money in his pocket, and it’s a bit wet. He leaves the bathroom and orders a big coffee cup, warm. Wet as he is, the barista barely sees his face. No one will recognize Jongin as he is, now.

She gives him the change and he waits, rubbing his own arms.

“Here’s your order,” the barista says to a man sitting at a table next to the door.

“Thank you,” a familiar voice says. Jongin turns his head, eyes wide; he can barely breathe when he looks at the man, who’s casually holding a newspaper in his wet hands.

Small, in a black long-sleeved shirt, pants and sneakers like he’s leaving a training session, an undercut in his dark, short hair, Kyungsoo is sitting quietly, reading while his tea is just next to his untouched umbrella on the table. It’s him, Jongin has no doubt – he’s pretty much as Chanyeol described. His glasses are small and he has a soft, round face, full lips and expressive eyes. He’s pale and he looks completely wet and unbothered. He doesn’t look threatening or scary. Just…

“Here’s you order,” the barista gives him the mug. “Don’t you wanna sit? There’s sugar and napkins on the table.”

He blinks before taking it.

“Thank you,” he mumbles. “I’ll sit…”

Jongin looks around; many tables are empty. He glances at Kyungsoo and the only empty chair next to him – his bag is on the floor. Jongin walks to him hesitantly.

“Can I…” He takes a long breath. “Can I sit here?”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo says, eyes on the newspaper. “Of course.”

Jongin sits down. Kyungsoo is pretty much ignoring him, but that gives him more time to appreciate the bodyguard’s figure. Jongin stares at him for a long time.

“Sorry,” he finally says. “I was… I needed to go out by myself.”

Kyungsoo keeps reading, like he hadn’t heard a thing. Jongin drinks his coffee. The song playing overhead is a chill Spanish song, and Jongin wishes he wasn’t so cold. Kyungsoo stands up, folding the newspaper, and picks up his bag. Jongin stays immovable while Kyungsoo offers him the bag.

“Dry yourself and change your clothes,” Kyungsoo says. Jongin takes the bag and looks at him, confused, but Kyungsoo just sits down again.

Jongin does as he’s told. In the bathroom, he realizes the clothes are a bit small for him, so they must be Kyungsoo’s. He smells them and dries his hair one last time before going back to his table.

He sits down and takes his coffee. Kyungsoo is still reading the newspaper and drinking his tea.

“Kyungsoo,” Jongin pleads. It’s a bittersweet feeling to say his name aloud in such a sad way. “Please talk to me. I’m sorry.”

Kyungsoo stares at him and Jongin can feel his own body shrinking inside under such a heavy gaze.

“I saw you on the window,” he says.

Jongin gasps.

“I… I wasn’t going to jump. I was just…”

“I don’t have any interest in protecting a person who doesn’t want to be protected,” Kyungsoo says dryly. “Don’t waste my time.”

“I won’t… I wasn’t,” Jongin mumbles. “I’m just having a bad day. I won’t do any of these things again.”

Kyungsoo goes back to read the newspaper. He doesn’t seem happy. Jongin just stares at him. For a long time, maybe because of the song or the late hour, Jongin forgets the world outside. He just drinks his coffee and looks at Kyungsoo.

The door opens and he blinks, scared.

“Let’s go,” Zitao says. He’s clearly pissed off. Jongin looks up at him and then at Kyungsoo.

“Take the bag with your clothes with you,” Kyungsoo says. “And the umbrella.”

“Thank you,” Jongin says.

“Keep an eye on him next time,” Kyungsoo says to Zitao.

“I’m a bodyguard,” Zitao says, grabbing Jongin’s arm. “Not a babysitter.”

Jongin lets himself be dragged; Kyungsoo doesn’t look at him anymore. He uses the umbrella to protect himself and Zitao until they get in the car. Zitao accompanies him until they’re alone in Jongin’s house – and that’s when he speaks.

“What the hell was that?” Zitao asks.

“Sorry,” Jongin says. “You’re right to be mad. I wasn’t—”

“What did you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” Jongin says. “I’m tired of being locked up. I’m losing my mind.”

Zitao rubs his own face, sighing.

“If you want anything, talk to me,” Zitao says. “You put your safety in risk for no reason. I’m angry, Chanyeol’s hurt, and Kyungsoo is mad.”

“I’m sorry,” Jongin repeats, defeated.

“Don’t do that again,” Zitao says. “I’m being too soft with you. You don’t even know how it is to be really locked up. Stop acting like a child!”

Jongin just listens. Zitao looks at him in silence for long, long seconds.

“I’m not going to watch you in your sleep or catch you when you run away,” he says. “This isn’t my job. If you do that again, we’re out. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Jongin watches him leave and he takes a while to move again. He walks to his room, puts the bag of wet clothes on a chair, and jumps on the bed. He’s not sleepy, maybe because of the coffee. He lays in bed and thinks about Kyungsoo.

 

 **kji.** _I’m really sorry._

 **kji.** _I know you don’t want to talk to me_

 **kji.** _I get it_

 **kji.** _But just so you know, it wasn’t a prank or anything_

 **kji.** _I’m a bird, sometimes I need space, I need to go away_

 **kji.** _Not your problem, I know._

 **kji.** _Today was a bad day, but lately every day is a bad day_

 **kji.** _I have discipline, that’s how I got where I am today_

 **kji.** _I won’t do that again without warning_

 **kji.** _I don’t want you to be mad at me_

He sighs tiredly, turns to his side and smells the clothes again. The rain is strong outside.

 

 

.

 

 

It’s still raining when Jongin gets on the airplane. Chanyeol is brutally ignoring him, Zitao doesn’t answer, but both of them are doing their jobs. Junmyeon travels on the same flight, but he’s calm, almost sleeping – Jongin knows that the team haven’t told the manager about the incident.

Jongin sits by the window. Chanyeol grunts.

“In the middle,” he throws a small bag to Jongin. “Between me and Zitao.”

“I like to watch the sky,” Jongin whispers.

“Middle seat,” Zitao says dryly before taking his place. Jongin can’t complain. He sleeps for a few hours because he hadn’t got much sleep before, but after eating, he has nothing to do. He can’t read, because people around them are loud, he can’t watch movies… he wants to talk.

“Chanyeol,” he turns to the bodyguard. “I’m sorry.”

“You said this before,” Chanyeol says dryly.

“You can’t be mad at me forever,” Jongin pouts. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Chanyeol says. “I’m disappointed. I trust you, Jongin. I like you. And you locked me in your room so you could run away. You made me look like a fool because I trusted you.”

“I know,” Jongin grabs his hand. “And I was drunk, sad and out of my mind. I won’t do that again.”

“You know what’s the worst thing?” Chanyeol stares at him, angry, but doesn’t take his hand away from Jongin’s hold. “I was worried about you. If something happened to you, it would kill me. And you did that by using me.”

“I love you,” Jongin says sincerely.

“God, this is like a novella,” Zitao complains. “Can you two stop this drama llama next to me?”

Jongin pouts, frustrated. He keeps trying to talk to them, but they’re not in the mood. He listens to music until they arrive at the destination.

Now, it’s sunny and it hurts his eyes. He puts on his sunglasses and does exactly every little thing Chanyeol tells him to do, because he doesn’t want to create any problems, and the airport is crowded. Jongin has to walk faster and Zitao protects him while the airport security team tries to keep the fans away from him. Jongin feels bad, because he wanted to talk to them, take pictures, but… he can’t. He lets Zitao move him around and when he’s in the car, he just watches the beautiful day behind the windows.

“The entire floor is ours,” Zitao says, walking slowly in the corridor. “You’ll get the last room. There’s one only bed, but Chanyeol’s room is right next to yours.”

“Okay…” Jongin looks around. It’s all too close, too restraining. “What should I do until the presentation?”

“Kyungsoo sent you an audio with instructions,” Zitao said tiredly. “Listen to it. I’m pretty sure he’s going to ask you to not consume any hotel room food, so please, don’t drink any booze you see and then throw a fit later.”

Jongin nods, embarrassed. Zitao points to a door.

“Uhnn… Is Kyungsoo around?” Jongin asks, opening the door with his keycard.

“No, Kyungsoo is a busy man,” Zitao says, turning back to leave. “And yeah, you pissed him off, so he won’t be that sweetheart anymore.”

Jongin sighs.

He takes a shower and lays in his bed, naked and wet. He’s enjoying the hot weather; he leaves the windows open. He picks his phone and he checks Kyungsoo’s message.

“ _Hello, Jongin. It’s Kyungsoo. Since you’re in a hotel room, there are some safety adjustments you should do. Keep the windows closed, don’t use any cleaning products before someone of your team tests them, check under your bed, check closets and nightstands, don’t eat or drink the food in your room, don’t open the door if the person doesn’t identify first, always call the team in case of hearing…”_

Jongin puts the sound volume on maximum. He puts it on repeat and places the phone right next to his ear. He licks the palm of his hand, spits on it many times and touches himself.

 

 

 

 

 

He’s awakened by the knocks on his door. He puts some clothes on before opening the door. Chanyeol looks at him and shakes his head.

“You’re supposed to ask before opening it,” he says.

“What do you want?” Jongin yawns.

“The sun is out, you can swim in the pool for a while,” Chanyeol says and it almost sounds like an order because he’s overdressed, sunglasses inside of a room, no smiles. “You’ll have two hours before the rehearsal.”

Jongin stares at him and nods slowly.

“Thank you,” he says, but he’s sure Chanyeol already knows. Jongin puts on his blue swim trunks, comfortable flip flops and sunglasses. Towels in hand, he walks to the pool alone – he knows he’s being observed, but at least he can walk in peace. The poolside is almost empty and Jongin leaves his things on a chair and just jumps in the water, without showering first. He touches the pool’s floor, his body adjusting to the water temperature easily, and closes his eyes.

He turns his body up and opens his eyes slowly, watching the sunlight invading the water and touch him. He’s at peace for now. The entire world is outside of his bubble and all the horrible people and disgusting reality is outside. Inside of the water, he’s free.

A hand touches the water. Jongin lets his body float.

“Don’t do this,” Zitao says. He’s squatting on the pool’s border, dressed casually, but Jongin can see the in-ears. “I know you won’t die like that, but you were there for almost ten minutes.” 

“I can’t swim, either?” Jongin grins.

“You can, for a normal amount of time, putting your head over the water so I can see you breathing,” Zitao says. “Your friend says he’ll be visiting you here in an hour.”

“Here?” Jongin frowns. “Is it Taemin?”

“Who else it would be?” Zitao stands up. “Did you use any sunscreen?”

“I don’t need that,” Jongin smiles, floating. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“No,” Zitao shoots him a funny look. “Do you smoke now?”

“Well, I can’t drink. I need another legal drug.”

“I heard you can get high on meditation. Try yoga.”

Jongin snorts. He stays in the pool for ten more minutes, then he goes back to his room, escorted by Zitao. As soon as he’s alone in the room, he puts on his favorite album and takes a hot shower. He’s drying his hair with a towel, mouthing ‘ _gimme all your love’_ along with the singer, when he sees his visitor sitting on his bed.

“Hey,” he mumbles. Taemin is reading the book Jongin brought with him. “What are you doing here?”

“ _…In this, they are Ledas… O mother of leaves and sweetness… Who are these pietas? The shadows of ringdoves chanting but chasing nothing_ ,” Taemin recites it dramatically, then breaks in his full, bright smile. “Sylvia Plath, Jongin? Since when are you a lesbian?”

“Since last year,” Jongin throws the wet towel on him. “You haven’t been paying attention.”

“Shut up,” he chuckles and this sound is golden. “I could stop here between flights. I’m flying home tomorrow.”

“And you came by only to see me?” Jongin winks.

“Apparently, to see your dick,” Taemin shakes your head. “Put on some pants. I want a serious talk and I can’t concentrate!”

Jongin laughs. He puts on pants and that’s all, sitting by Taemin’s side on the bed.

“Leave my book alone,” Jongin take the book from his hands. “What it is?”

“I heard about your concert. The YouTube guy made a video apologizing,” Taemin says. “Then, the dead roses. Not having a great month, are you?”

“Are you worried about me?” Jongin leans his head, smiling. “That’s new.”

“I wouldn’t be normally,” Taemin seems to agree. “But the one who told me this was Yoona, and I believe when she’s worried. Also, she’s leaving and I can’t imagine how you would let her go.”

Jongin stares at the wall in silence. He shakes his wet hair. Taemin seems to understand, of course – there was no need of words between them. Taemin plants a kiss on Jongin’s shoulder gently.

“What happened? I know you worship her,” he whispers. “Was it a fight or…”

“No,” Jongin says quietly. “It wasn’t a fight. I’m stressed because of… everything.”

“You’re always stressed,” Taemin laughs. “When you were twelve you couldn’t sleep right for a week because you messed up your lines on the school’s play.”

“Yeah,” Jongin smiles sadly. “Not that, this time.”

“Is it about a prankster?” Taemin looks at him, incredulous. “Is _that_ stressing you?”

Jongin looks at him. Taemin is a human. Probably his only human close friend – the only human he feels like he has a truly unbalanced relationship, the only person he can be truly free to be himself. He touches Taemin’s face kindly. He’s inhumanly beautiful as ever, but Jongin hardly notices it, because they grew up together and he’s used to Taemin’s face as much he’s used to his own.

“Are you doing this?”

“What?” Taemin asks, softly. “The pranks? No. I told you before.”

“It isn’t a prank, Taemin,” he sighs, letting his hand slip to his friend’s shoulder. “They’re trying to sabotage me. A human is doing that. And this human is… close to me, I think.”

He pushes Taemin down, forcing him to lay down. Taemin doesn’t resist when Jongin moves him or pushes his arms up, locking them over his head. Jongin straddles him, like they used to play when they’re children. Jongin always won, locking Taemin under him easily.

“No,” Taemin smiles because he doesn’t care. His gaze is affectionate as always. “I don’t think so.”

Jongin just stares at him. When they were young, Taemin was skinny and fragile like a delicate girl; now, he’s as big and strong as Jongin, body defined by training, but he won’t do anything. Unlike Jongin, he’s not easily scared; he enjoys being in danger. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Taemin says unbothered, under him. “I disagree with almost everything you said.”

“Tell me why,” Jongin holds his wrists carefully.

“It wasn’t me. I know you better than anyone else. If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead. If I wanted you crazy, you wouldn’t be here, now,” Taemin says clearly, a hint of fondness in your voice. “I don’t know if this person is human or not, that’s true. But one thing I’m sure, this person doesn’t know you well. They look at you and they see your hybrid side, they see beauty, talent and softness. They can’t see how you’re easy to adapt or how you can turn into a predator if you wanted to. They don’t know that they’re only changing you, not scaring you.”

Jongin only stares at him, surprised, no words coming out of his mouth.

“This _is_ a prank,” Taemin continues. “Because whoever is doing this, they don’t know how to intimidate you. They use these cliché things, these… honestly, childish methods. They don’t know your heart, so they don’t know how to break you.”

Jongin lets his hands free. But Taemin doesn’t move. He’s waiting.

“I accused her,” Jongin says, looking down at him. “And I kissed her.”

“Oh, I see,” Taemin laughs.

“How can you laugh about that in my face?” Jongin slaps his shoulder.

“You wouldn’t do that if you weren’t in such an altered state. You placed her above earth,” he shrugs, his dark hair moving on the bedsheet. “I’m glad this happened, by the way. It wasn’t very healthy. Now, you two can treat each other like friends.”

“She doesn’t want me as a friend. She probably hates me.”

“Ah, I doubt it. She loves you as much as you love her,” Taemin says. “But you’ve changed the subject of your obsession, haven’t you?”

Jongin sits on the bed again, letting him go.

“Shut up.”

“Is it Chanyeol? You wouldn’t let her go if you haven’t replaced someone to be the focus of this creep side of yours,” he laughs, sitting up.

“No, it’s not.”

“You won’t tell me?” Taemin pouts. “Ah, I tell you everything you ask.”

Jongin side eyes him.

“It’s a bodyguard on my team,” he grunts. Taemin claps, happy. Jongin slaps him again.

“Is he cute?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Oh, can I meet him?”

“No.”

“Ah, that’s mean, Jonginnie.”

“He doesn’t like meeting people,” Jongin sighs. “He’s a shark.”

Taemin’s mouth makes an ‘O’. Then, unsurprisingly, he smiles.

 

 

 

 

.

.

 

Jongin is warming up when Zitao brings the gifts.

“Oh my god,” Jongin jumps unconsciously. “Can I keep them?”

Zitao, standing on the middle of the room with at least ten plushies in his arms, a princess tiara in his hair and two fluffy kid’s backpacks on his shoulders, nods. Jongin starts to collect the gifts, happily.

“There are more,” the bodyguard says. “But they’re being inspected. And you can’t eat the food, but they sent you five chocolate boxes.”

“I couldn’t eat it, anyway,” Jongin is looking for a place to keep them. “But it’s cute.”

He keeps them in his bag, with the exception of a big teddy bear, that he holds while he’s waiting for the backup dancers to join him. His makeup is done, he’s already dressed and he looks at himself on the mirror. He sometimes forgets that he’s… beautiful.

He picks up his phone and takes a picture holding the gifts. He logs onto his account; his team is the one publishing about the presentations, tv shows and any updates. But this time, he posts it himself. _Happy! I loved the gifts :),_ he writes. As soon as he posts it, many likes and comments pop up, and he reads some of them. They seem excited, they say they love him and they seem happy. After all, he’s loved, even if it’s hard to feel it, sometimes.

 

The presentation has no surprises this time. It was expected to be like that. This person isn’t that crazy to follow him to the other side of the world for few days – too dangerous. Jongin comes back to the hotel in a simple car. Chanyeol drives; Zitao follows them in another car.

“How are you?”

“Good,” Jongin says. “Tired.”

“You seem better, indeed,” Chanyeol checks the rearview. “Only living roses today.”

“Yes,” Jongin stares at the window. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

“You’ll travel in a week again,” Chanyeol says softly. “You won’t have to be locked up all the time.”

Jongin turns his head to stare at the dog hybrid.

“You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“A bit. But you know I can’t be mad at you for a long time.”

“We can eat pizza at your family restaurant when we get home,” Jongin smiles.

“Ah, you’re skipping your diet a lot,” Chanyeol laughs. “You’ve changed.”

“Maybe,” Jongin stares at the window. “How can I apologize to Kyungsoo?”

“No idea,” Chanyeol laughs. “When he’s mad at me, he spanks me. He’s small but scarily strong. He made me pass out once.”

Jongin laughs too. It’s fun to imagine this happening.

“What are the things that he likes?” Jongin asks. “I can buy him stuff. Since he doesn’t like to talk to me in person.”

“He likes food.”

“Everybody likes food.”

“Well, he likes movies too,” Chanyeol says, driving into the hotel’s garage. “I don’t know if it’s because the movie theater is dark and you have to be quiet, but he’s always there. He watches any kind of movies.”

“Hummm…” Jongin bites his lip. “Well, that I can work with.”

“If you want to meet him in person,” Chanyeol says casually. “We have meetings every Friday morning at Yifan's office. But if he asks, I told you nothing about it.”

 

 

Jongin goes to his room by himself. It’s hot so he takes off his shirt before even checking the room. When he looks at his bed, there’s a book. A single book on the middle of the bed.

 _The book of light_ , Lucille Clifton. Jongin walks slowly to the bed. He could call Chanyeol.

But he opens the book instead.

_To my favorite lesbian,_

_with love,_

_Taemin._

 

Jongin laughs. That asshole.

 

 

 

 

 

Jongin wakes up early and eats breakfast with Zitao. He calls his mother before leaving the hotel and checks his messages. He’s not in a hurry to spend hours sitting in a plane, but he packs quite fast. He reads the book on the flight home and he enjoys it, lost in the poetry.

It’s cold again. There’s a crowd at the airport, and Jongin is escorted by a team. It’s so full of people that he’s almost smashed between two security guards. He enters the car with difficulty; Zitao drives and Chanyeol keeps an eye on Jongin.

Jongin walks in his apartment almost freezing. He takes his clothes off and puts on comfortable ones. It’s one of those days. He doesn’t want to dance or train or talk to anyone. Yet, he grabs his phone and buys movie tickets; then, he buys chocolate and asks them to be sent with a ‘sorry’ card. He would send flowers too, but he could only imagine how Kyungsoo would receive it in Yifan's office.

After his work is done, he goes to his closet and picks up a small wood box under his old clothes – he spares them for donation. He takes out a cigarette case, the fancy one he received as a gift from his dad in his first show; it was an old family belonging and his dad never smoked, but he kept it. Jongin bought cigarettes and filled it, but rarely smoked. Once in a while he had to throw them away for being too old.

These ones are new. He picks two, closes the case and keeps it in the same place.

He waits until Chanyeol brings the food. He turns on some music, and eats fast, mouth full. When he finishes, he walks to the windows and opens it widely, lights a cigarette and smokes it, eyes closed.

“ _Why don't you sit with me for just a little while?”_ Jongin mumbles under the singer’s voice. “ _Tell me, what's wrong?_ ”

He looks around and he’s restless inside as much he’s tired. There’s so much, so much outside…

He throws away the cigarette butts and sits down on the couch.

 

 **dks.** _If you keep the windows open again,_

 **dks.** _I’ll shoot you myself._

 

Jongin explodes in laughter.

 

 

 

 

It was a busy day after he got home and that’s why Jongin only saw the massages hours after Kyungsoo sent them. After beauty care, training, doctor appointments, two meetings – one with a designer team for an ad and another to sign a deal, - he reads them.

 

 **dks.** _Thank you for the gifts._

 **dks.** _There was no need but I’m grateful._

 

Jongin can only answers it after a photoshoot, already at night and he’s exhausted.

 

 **kji.** _No problem!_

 **kji.** _Did you like it?_

 **dks.** _Yes, very much._

Jongin giggles.

“He’s cute,” he mumbles. Chanyeol side eyes him.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Huh?” Jongin looks up. “No, I’m talking to Kyungsoo.”

“Ah, you should have seen his face when he got the chocolate,” Chanyeol laughs. “He was embarrassed.”

Jongin can’t stop smiling.

“Did he look like he was happy?”

“I guess,” Chanyeol shrugs. “He doesn’t like to show what he’s feeling.”

“I really want him to forgive me…”

“You should focus on your work,” Chanyeol sighs. “I won’t be with you tomorrow, only Zitao and the rest of the team. You have to go to the radio and to do a photoshoot in an open place.”

“I know,” Jongin pouts. “I thought you would go with me to Junmyeon’s dinner.”

“I would love to,” Chanyeol says. He’s driving, but Jongin can see he’s actually sad for not going. “But I apologized to him. I know it’s an important night.”

“Do I have to go alone?” Jongin hits the back of his head on the seat backrest repeatedly. “I hate to go to parties on my own.”

“Zitao can go with you,” Chanyeol says. “He dresses way better than me.”

“It’s not like it’s hard,” Jongin says. Chanyeol growls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The photoshoot is in a park. It’s full of trees, wide open, and because it’s cold, the small amount of rain is strong. Jongin is using an overcoat, fully dressed, but he’s still cold. He likes the concept of the photoshoot, after all. He lifts his head and breaths in deeply. Taking pictures is easy, something he’s too used to doing. After taking at least a thousand photos – and, unfortunately, he knows it’s necessary – they have a break. Jongin walks casually, watching the sunset. He sits by Zitao to eat some snacks.

“It’s nice here,” Zitao says. “I’ve never been here before.”

“Do you enjoy nature?” Jongin asks, munching. “You don’t look the type.”

“Ah, not my natural habitat,” Zitao laughs. “But I guess my wild side is pleased by this place.”

Jongin nods, chewing a tiny sandwich. He knows it very well.

The radio host is a smiling old friend. Jongin couldn’t be any happier. He throws himself on Jonghyun’s arms.

“How are you?” Jonghyun holds him tight. “You’re looking good.”

“Better now,” Jongin says, nuzzling in Jonghyun’s neck. He feels cold when they stop touching. “This is Zitao. He’s a part of my security team.”

“Nice to meet you,” Zitao smiles, bowing. Jonghyun mirrors him. Jongin makes himself comfortable and chats before the program starts. Zitao explains which subjects can be asked and which can’t.

The light in the room lit up, _On Air._ Jonghyun introduces the show and does his initial talking.

“Well, today we have a friend of mine as a guest,” Jonghyun says. “I’ve know him for many years and it’s hard for me to admit that he not only now is taller and stronger than me but he’s also prettier.”

Jongin laughs.

“Ah, see? You recognize his laugh?” Jonghyun says softly. “It’s Kim Jongin, Nation’s sweetheart. Dancer, singer, choreographer, a full performer. Also, a cute boy.”

“Hello,” Jongin says, measuring the right distance between his mouth and the mic. “Good night.”

“The Blue Night listeners are thrilled to have you here, Jongin.”

“So am I,” Jongin smiles. Zitao is sitting next to him, quietly listening. “I listen to Blue Night when I’m on the road and now I’m here…”

“Your fans are already sending dozens of messages,” Jonghyun says, staring at his laptop. “But before I wish you talked about what you’re doing now. You’re on tour, right?”

“Yes, technically… The tour includes three countries.”

“Can you tell us about it?”

“It’s a Greek Mythology-inspired dance presentation. It’s called ‘Cygni’. It tells a story of a mute poet, it was based on a book.”

“Are you that poet?”

“Yes,” Jongin chuckles. “But we have almost twenty backup dancers with me. It was directed and adapted by Im Yoona and I.”

“Oh, Yoona,” Jonghyun says. “Only legends on this show.”

“Yes. It was an honor for me to work with such a great ballerina. I was raised on ballet and this was my first attempt in solo and mixing styles.”

“Really? And what else inspired you?”

“I like contemporary dancing, but we also used street dance and Latin rhythms,” Jongin nods, even if no one is seeing him. “The entire team tried to creat something modern, so this isn’t really a classical ballet presentation.”

“Some people think ballet is boring,” Jonghyun mocks.

“I’m aware,” Jongin snorts. “That’s probably why Taemin is a singer now.”

“Taemin?” Jonghyun pretends he’s confused. “Who’s this? I don’t know… Is he a clown?”

Jongin laughs hard and has to cover his mouth.

“Well, let’s see what your fans are saying,” Jonghyun puts on his glasses before reading. “Ah, this is Joonyeon and she says she’s a big fan of yours, _Hi, Jjong! I’m Joonyeon and I’ve watched Jongin dancing in person! I cried when the poet…_ oh, I can’t say that, is a spoiler. _Is he thinking about visiting more places? Many friends of mine would die to see him performing.”_

“I would love to,” Jongin says. “But for now, I can’t.”

“Are you too busy, Jongin? I mean, you should be, because I see your face all the time.”

“Yes, I’m not too busy like I was earlier this year, but I can’t promise more shows,” he explains. “I’m sorry.”

“This one is good,” Jonghyun says, pointing to his laptop. “ _Jongin, can you tell us why do you posts selfies holding teddy bears? Do you want to kill us?”_

Jongin and Zitao laughs.

“No,” Jongin says, chuckling. “I wanted to show off my gifts!”

“Ah, that’s cute,” Jonghyun smiles. “ _Ask Jongin if he’s single. Tell him it’s for a friend!”_

Jongin is already crying of laughter.

“I’m single,” Jongin says. “Tell your friend to ask me out.”

“Uhhh,” Jonghyun laughs, excited. “So, Kim Jongin is single and ready to mingle?”

“I’m twenty-four,” Jongin winks. “I guess I can kiss someone once in a while.”

“And there’s anyone you’re trying to impress?” Jonghyun says seductively.

“Not anyone dating clowns,” Jongin says and Jonghyun pouts. “But I guess I have one or two people I would like to take out for a date.”

“I’m sad,” Jonghyun turns to his laptop. “ _Hey, Jjong, can you ask Jongin if he has an ideal type? I mean, I want to ask him out.”_

“I like…” Jongin licks his lips. “People who take care of me. I like people who say the truth and… I like mysterious people.”

“You heard him, you horny fans,” Jonghyun chuckles. “ _Hey, Jjong. I’m a Blue Night listener and I’m not a Jongin fan, but of course I know him. I wanted to ask if he has something to say. I mean, the guy is pretty and he’s a nice dancer, but does he ever speak?”_

“Ouch,” Jongin says. “I do speak. I prefer to sleep, but I speak.”

“Then share with us something that you’re thinking about,” Jonghyun says softly.

Jongin signalizes to Zitao, so the bodyguard would give him his bag.

“There’s this book I’m reading now,” he says, holding his bag. He takes out the book and picks the bookmark to find the right page.

“The Book of Light,” Jonghyun reads it, lifting his head. “Nice name.”

“Yeah, I want to read a passage of a poem, can I?”

“Of course. The guy complained you didn’t talk, now you can talk as much as you want.”

“I’ve been reading poetry a lot, I really enjoy it. I try to write poetry myself, but I’m not that great,” Jongin passes his finger over the bold lines. “Here it is, it’s named Leda: _always pyrotechnics; stars spinning into phalluses of light, serpents promising sweetness, their forked tongues thick and erect, patriarchs of bird exposing themselves in the air. this skin is sick with loneliness. You want what a man wants, next time come as a man or don't come_.”

“Wow,” Jonghyun smiles. “I liked that. We have to do a break, Jongin. You can offer a song to someone, if you want it.”

“I would like to dedicate a song to someone who I would like to apologize,” he says, but his hands are slightly shaking while he says the name and the artist. He looks down to his book. He feels a bit lighter. 

 

 

 

 

 

Jongin has to stop home to dress himself. Zitao stays inside this time. When he’s picking his clothes, Zitao makes sounds of approval or disapproval every time he touches a piece of clothing.

“Your friend said he had to ignore a bunch of questions about the YouTube prankster,” Zitao says. He seems unbothered by Jongin’s nakedness.

“I know,” Jongin says. “But that’s predictable.”

Zitao helps Jongin with his makeup. They get there earlier than expected, but still late. Everybody is eating and Junmyeon already talked about his marriage date. Jongin can only hug him and congratulate Joohyun. They are an incredibly stunning couple that night, over dressed and smiling. Zitao tries to stop Jongin from drinking but it’s futile. Even Junmyeon allows him to. Jongin drinks vodka, whiskey, wine, and beer.

“God, you really want to get drunk,” Zitao presses his forehead, tired. “You’re making a mess.”

“At least here I can have fun,” Jongin almost sings. Zitao laughs.

“I guess you can relax here,” Zitao nods. “Junmyeon already has a lot of security around.”

“Hey,” Jongin throws an arm around Zitao’s neck. “You know, I like you. You’re cool.”

“Thank you,” Zitao smiles. “I’m glad to know. You’re not that bad either.”

Jongin dances, by himself and with another guest. In an impulse, he asks Joohyun to dance with him, but it’s a slow song. To his surprise, she accepts it. He guides her and holds her politely.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” Jongin whispers.

“I don’t have anything against you,” she says. “You only thought that because I’m honest.”

He steps back a little so he could look at her while dancing.

“What do you mean?”

“Many people were against Junmyeon managing you,” she says, staring back at him. “I was one of them. My opinion doesn’t change and… I don’t hide it. But these people do. They lie to you because you succeeded, that caught them by surprise.”

“Amazing,” Jongin smiles sarcastically. “And may I know why were you against it?”

“Because you’re a hybrid. A black swan,” she says simply. “And now people pretend they’re okay with beings that their grandparents bought and created having the same rights with them. But it’s a lie. In the end, they still believe hybrids are things. They just don’t want to face it.”

“And why do you think?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I think hybrids are hybrids and people are people. None of them are things,” she shrugs. “I’m still prejudicial sometimes, but I can’t help it. I’m a human. But I’m a perceptive human. I know these people love you now. But many love you because they’re jumping on a trend. And many of them still see you as a thing, but a thing they want to possess.”

“Well,” Jongin looks away. “Thanks for being honest, I guess.”

“Don’t be mad at me,” Joohyun says. She always looks too serious. “I’ve grow to like you, I think. Not just as someone whose success or failure would affect my fiancée, but also as someone I care about.”

“Really?” He looks at her again.

“Yes. And that’s why I’m telling you,” she sighs. “Look around.”

He frowns.

“What?”

“Pay attention. How many hybrids you see here? And how many of them are here because they’re working for the sake of humans?” She says slowly. “I advise you the same way I advise any hybrid I know. Don’t trust people. And if you do, trust the ones who know they can hurt you. The ones who say it in your face. Not to intimidate, but because they have to.”

He holds her close, like they’re dancing a tango.

“You know there’s someone trying to hurt me, don’t you?” He whispers in her ear. “Do you know who it could be?”

“If you’re trying to suggest it could be me or Junmyeon, I’m afraid not. It wouldn’t be a smart move,” she whispers back.

“No offense, but neither of you seem very interested in me in general,” he snorts. “I know he likes me, but this is about work and he’s ambitious. Work comes first.”

“Then, what do you want me to say?”

He looks at her. The song ended and he loses his grip, letting his arms fall.

“Nothing. You said it already,” Jongin licks his lips. “Thank you. I mean it.”

He walks away from the apartment. He waits until Zitao is distracted, then just leaves. There are security guards outside, he’s not afraid. He takes out his phone.

 

 **kji.** _Are you around?_

 **dks.** _Yes._

 **kji.** _I’m leaving the building. I need fresh air_

 **kji.** _Can I?_

 **dks.** _Go to the balcony._

 **kji.** _Too crowded!!!_

 **dks.** _Rooftop. Stairs on your left._

 **kji.** _I’m drunk_

 **kji.** _I may fall_

 **dks.** _Stay away from the borders._

 **kji.** _Come hold me then_

Jongin laughs and… he’s finally letting the alcohol talk for him. He climbs the stairs slowly and he doesn’t even get close to the borders, he just sits on the floor and looks up. After a while, he lays down. The sky is full of clouds, but he can see the moon, even if it’s blurry.

 

“Kyungsoooo,” he almost sings. “Are you thereee?”

“Yes.”

Jongin needs a minute to react to the voice. Incapable of sitting up fast, he just rolls his body so he can lift his head and see better. Kyungsoo is standing by the door, all black, cap and glasses. Now, seeing him standing, even being a bit too dark, Jongin can have a nice angle to inspect him.

“You’re thick,” Jongin says.

“Thanks, I guess,” Kyungsoo answers, unbothered.

“Come here,” Jongin taps the ground.

“I don’t like high places.”

“Fine,” Jongin takes at least a minute to stand up. Kyungsoo just watches him struggling. He walks to the bodyguard and looks down. Kyungsoo looks up to him. In the cool night wind, the music in the back is almost a whisper, and Jongin can only stare. Kyungsoo’s sweater seems soft, he’s compact and his lips are so full… Jongin wants to rub himself all over him.

Kyungsoo just stares back. He’s patient.

“Can I kiss you?” Jongin asks, almost whispering.

“If you do,” Kyungsoo says slowly, “will you go back to the party and stay there?”

“Well…” Jongin shrugs. “Yes.”

“Then you can,” Kyungsoo says simply.

Jongin takes Kyungsoo’s cap gently. His hair is messy at the top, where it’s longer. He hugs Kyungsoo, resting his arms on the bodyguard’s shoulders and presses their noses together. Kyungsoo is exactly as he was before; he doesn’t seem nervous or surprised.

Jongin turns his head and brushes their lips together before pressing them further. All of his excitement is going down to his pants, and he licks Kyungsoo’s mouth because, god, he wants to taste it.

Kyungsoo finally reacts and holds his hips firmly. Jongin gasps and he’s burning in desire, he could tear their clothes apart right there but he can’t— Kyungsoo kisses him for real, tongues touching and Jongin makes a sound because he can’t help it. He pulls Kyungsoo neck with his arms, and rubs their tongues with intent. He’s melting into the kiss, and he wants to press his entire body against Kyungsoo’s, but Kyungsoo holds him in place, like he already knew this was going to happen.

Kyungsoo parts the kiss. Jongin stays with his mouth open for a second before whining.

“No…” he says, confused.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo sighs. “I’ll take you downstairs, you will stop drinking, sit down, and stay quiet until you leave.”

Jongin licks his lips and closes his eyes. His body hurts.

But he lets Kyungsoo guide him with no more complains. Kyungsoo takes the cap from Jongin’s hands before opening the door, but he says nothing. Jongin looks at the people of the party and sighs.

 

 

 

 

 

.

.

 

 

 

The kiss haunts him at night.

It used to be easy for him to touch himself – but now his body knows how Kyungsoo’s touch feels like. He can’t get there. He wants the real thing. Jongin takes a long cold bath, and then watches television. He should be sleeping, but everytime he lays in bed he remembers it, so maybe if he watches television for too long, he will just fall asleep.

It works. He barely remembers the drama he was watching; he just wakes up, the tv is off and he’s tucked in a blanket. It’s chilly outside and his bones are complaining. He wishes he could stay in bed.

Chanyeol destroys his dream when he walks in, but at least he has warm soup.

“Thank you,” Jongin says, taking the bowl. “My day will be long today…”

“Hey,” Chanyeol picks a chair and sits in front of him. “We have to talk about something.”

“What?” Jongin asks before sipping his soup. The hot air blows in his face and he feels good.

“Junmyeon has been asking weird things about you,” Chanyeol frowns. He looks like a little kid when he’s bothered. “I don’t know. I think you two should talk.”

“Fine,” Jongin agrees.

“I asked him if we could visit him today and he said yes. I know that you’ll be very tired, but…”

“It’s okay,” Jongin nods, licking his lips. “I could barely talk to him yesterday.”

“You were drunk-dancing with Joohyun,” Chanyeol laughs. “Tao told me.”

“Well, it was fun.”

“She’s not fun.”

“No, but being drunk is,” he yawns. “I mean, not anymore. My head hurts.”

“Tao said you left the party,” Chanyeol says.

“I went to the rooftop for twenty minutes.”

Jongin drinks the soup quietly and then follows his routine. It’s a long day of training, taking care of his body, and doing a few exams. He takes a nap on the way to Junmyeon’s home. Chanyeol almost carries him, but Jongin wakes up in time. Junmyeon is already waiting and only Jongin enters in the apartment.

“Hello,” Junmyeon says, closing the door. He looks sleepy. “How are you?”

“Tired, but fine,” he smiles. Junmyeon’s apartment is big and ample; a mess of expensive things. “How about you?”

“Good,” he smiles back, holding Jongin’s arm and walking with him. “A bit sleepy. I drank too much. Do you want some coffee or tea?”

Jongin looks around the living room, “Tea.”

“Nice,” Junmyeon lets him go and points to the big, pink couch in the center of his room. “I’ll make it for you. Chamomile?”

“It’s good,” Jongin mumbles. He looks around to the musical instruments and equipment in his room. There are pants and shirts thrown around, many papers and books. Sometimes Jongin forgets that Junmyeon is attending university classes. He searches for pictures, and it’s easy to see the one they took many years ago. Yoona, Junmyeon, Yixing, Joohyun, Minho, Taemin, Jonghyun, and Jongin, standing in front of a restaurant; Jongin and Taemin were still minors, dumb students, but they were already stars.

“Hey,” Junmyeon brings his cup of tea, smiling. Jongin takes it politely. “So, what it is?”

“Chanyeol told me you’ve been asking things about me.”

Junmyeon seems to be taken aback with Jongin’s boldness, but he’s as soft as always.

“Well, yes,” he smiles. “I’m worried about you.”

“That, I already know.”

Junmyeon sighs, sitting down on the carpet, next to his books.

“Jongin, I’m not afraid for your life,” he says solemnly. “I trust Yifan’s team. I know no one is going to hurt you.”

Jongin drinks his tea and waits for the real talk.

“I am honestly afraid that… I think the biggest problem may be your own mind,” Junmyeon looks down, like he was searching for words. “Since I’ve met you, you’ve been insanely dedicated. Even when you got hurt… you couldn’t stop. You’re famous and loved and you’re recognized for your talent and you deserve that, but people don’t know how much you sacrificed for that. I know. I saw it.”

Jongin just stares.

“I’ve been in this path too. I wished to be a singer, once, but I had to sacrifice this dream to reach my goals… You know… my marriage isn’t a heart’s choice, but it’s the best decision for me and Joohyun, even if we’re also sacrificing our personal desires,” he sighs. “The fact is that we need to suffer to reach our goals and I’ve seen you give your best no matter what since your teenage years. And you started even earlier…”

“Please go straight to your point,” Jongin says carefully.

“Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not creating this situation?” Junmyeon deadpans. “Can you?”

“What?” Jongin stands up immediately. “What are you—”

“Jongin, calm down.”

“Do you believe I’m lying?” Jongin stares down at him, incredulous. “Do you really think that?”

“I don’t want to,” Junmyeon says carefully. “Please sit down.”

Jongin crosses his arms. The empty cup falls on the carpet. Junmyeon picks it.

“Jongin,” he pleads. “Sit down. Let’s talk. I’m not accusing you. I’m just asking.”

Jongin sits down, sighs deeply, “no. I’m not lying. I’m not crazy. I would never do that.”

“Okay,” Junmyeon nods. “I believe you.”

“Do you, really?” He says angrily.

“I do, you’re misunderstanding me,” Junmyeon taps the ground. “Sit here.”

Jongin lets his body fall on the ground like a kid. Junmyeon rubs his knee.

“I’m not accusing you,” he says softly. “I just think… you’ve never rebelled before. You spent your whole life being dedicated and giving nothing but hard work. You don’t date, you barely see your family, you don’t go to parties with friends and you can’t even study… I was expecting that one day you would… freak out. Rebel. Go crazy. You’re not a robot, after all.”

“No, I’m a hybrid,” Jongin says. “And that’s why I can’t rest. I don’t have the privilege of being just good. I know you’re human, but I thought you knew that.”

“I know it. But I also know you,” Junmyeon says. “Joohyun said something last night and I—”

“What did she say?”

“We were going to her house. I was diving and she told me ‘Jongin is already a man now. He’s changed. You can no longer treat him like a kid’. Joohyun never talks about the people I work with. I trust her opinion. If she said that, it’s because she saw something different in you. And she’s more perceptive than me.”

“And you don’t trust me?”

“I do. But I’m afraid you’re really changing, because I was waiting for that day. She just warned me. Now I know something is going on and I just want to know if you weren’t… too pressured, and found in this… whole situation a way to escape.”

“It would be stupid,” Jongin spits. “Because I’m more locked up than ever. I’m not a kid begging for attention. I want to be free, that’s true. This ‘whole situation’ is the exact oppose.”

“I get that. I just need to be sure.”

“Next time ask anything to me. Don’t mess with Chanyeol,” Jongin says angrily. “You’re my manager, not my dad.”

“Don’t be mad at me,” Junmyeon tries to reach him. “Jongin…”

“I’m not mad.”

“You are.”

“I won’t be mad for too long,” Jongin sighs and he stands up before Junmyeon can hug him. “Now I need to be by myself.”

“Fine,” Junmyeon says and he sounds sad. Jongin walks away without looking back.

 

 

 

His next days are just like the old days.

Jongin has to train for ten hours a day and the rest is just meetings and tour-related activities. Besides a card game with Chanyeol and Zitao, he has no fun. He sleeps as he wakes up and he barely has the energy to stress when he sees Yixing’s post announcing Yoona’s co-directing in his next project.

Until the day of his travel. In the morning, rushed by Zitao, Jongin cuts himself while shaving. It’s a dumb mistake; he was distracted and he turns the blade in the wrong angle. It’s a thin cut, but it’s long and it bleeds almost instantly.

“Fuck,” he groans, holding his chin and looking for a towel. He picks the white towel and presses against it. He’s about to call Zitao to help him when the phone rings.

Jongin wouldn’t answer it in a time like this if it wasn’t Kyungsoo – it’s been days since they interacted.

“Hello,” Jongin asks, his heart beating faster in his chest.

“ _Why are you bleeding? You’re alone,”_ Kyungsoo says worriedly.

“Ah, it was nothing. I cut myself while I was shaving,” Jongin says way too happy for someone who just got hurt. It’s good to listen to Kyungsoo’s voice after days of silence. “I’ll ask Zitao to help me.”

“ _Oh. Sorry, I hadn’t thought about that,”_ Kyungsoo says politely. _“Clean it.”_

Zitao opens the door.

“Are you bleeding,” he sniffs before looking at Jongin. “Ah.”

“He’s here,” Jongin says. “Thank you, Kyungsoo.”

“ _No problem_ ,” Kyungsoo mumbles and hangs up. Jongin is disappointed.

Zitao makes Jongin sit, then cleans it and makes a bandage. Jongin complains, but stays in place.

“That was dumb,” Zitao says, laughing. “Why don’t you just take meds and stop the hair growth? I did that. I have a baby face, now.”

“It affects my performance levels,” Jongin mumbles. “I only take medicine if I’m sick.”

“I don’t believe that,” Zitao argues. “I just get less aggressive. Which is great, because I hate not being in control.”

“I need the energy to dance,” Jongin shrugs. Zitao slaps him. “Sorry.”

“You say that because you’re a swan. When Chanyeol wasn’t on meds, you could see his stubble growing… Fur animals can’t choose…”

“Does Kyungsoo take meds?”

“For hair growth? He doesn’t even have a beard, Jongin. He’s a fish.”

“I mean, to control himself.”

“Kyungsoo? Probably not,” Zitao pushes Jongin’s chin up to inspect the bandage. “He’s very disciplined. I don’t think he needs it.”

“Huh,” Jongin bites his lip.

“I think it’s cute.”

“What?”

“Your crush on him,” Zitao smiles.

“Well, _he_ ’s cute,” Jongin looks down, pretending he’s not embarrassed, pushing Zitao’s hand away.

“He’s cute. But he bites,” Zitao mimics biting.

 

 

 

 

 

Jongin’s ride is short, and he’s still cold. Minho waits for him in the airport with flowers. There are few fans, probably because of the late hour. Jongin smiles, holds his friend tightly, then takes pictures with fans under the tense look of his bodyguards.

“Ah, so famous,” Minho looks to Zitao and Chanyeol, who are following them in silence. “They’re coming too?”

“Yes,” Jongin nods. “I can’t walk around alone anymore.”

“That’s fine. I have space for them,” Minho laughs. “How about your team? They’re in a hotel, right?”

“Yes. Junmyeon didn’t come this time, he’s busy…”

“So I’ve heard…”

Minho’s house is big, warm, and very different to a hotel room. Jongin chooses to stay in the same room his bodyguards, so they put mattress in the same place. He’s not worried. He feels safe, after all. When he and Minho are finally alone, he feels like he can talk freely.

“What’s happening, Jongin?” Minho puts meat on his plate. “Taemin told me there were people pranking you and I’ve heard about the incident on your presentation.”

“It’s a bit serious,” he says. He trusts Minho. They spend long years together, even if Minho was way more interested in making music than dancing. “I can't talk much about it, but someone is threatening to kill me.”

“Oh,” he nods. “I guess you got to that level, now… It’s sad to know people can’t handle your success. I’m sorry you’ve been through that.”

“That’s one of the reasons you quit being in front of camera, no?”

“Yes, one of them,” Minho laughs sadly. “I also enjoy being a producer and resting. How are you, now? Can you at least see your family?”

“Sometimes. I went to my nephew’s birthday months ago. He’s a cute kid.”

“I’m glad. You… you need to take care of yourself, Jonginnie. I remember you used to take any possible pill to make sure you would be ready to training,” Minho sighs. “You don’t get fevers anymore, don’t you?”

“No,” Jongin smiles. “I’m good.”

“Don’t forget to have people in your heart. This type of life is too lonely…”

“How is your life here?”

“Lots of silence,” he says quietly. “I have to leave home to do many things, but I also travel a lot. I’m happy.”

Jongin doesn’t say anything. He sleeps in bed with Minho, instead of going to his room. Minho is friendly and doesn’t mind Jongin’s hugs. He has to leave early to train on the stage; to see how the theater is and what he’s supposed to fix.

The lights on the street almost convince him he’s home. Jongin eats out with Zitao and Chanyeol, and goes to sleep early on Minho’s couch. He wakes up in the morning, too cold, and has to look for a blanket.

The presentations are fine. There’s a problem with the event’s organization, but that doesn’t affect his work. Jongin sleeps fine as always, next to Minho. It’s such a peaceful aura, to wake up in a chill place like this, not much noise and no fear, he almost feels like he’s just dreaming. He spends the night looking at the window, drinking a warm drink. His bones hurt, his body is tired and he’s cold.

In the end of the third night, when he’s leaving, a girl waits for him next to the car. She’s around twelve and even like that, Chanyeol seems worried to allow her to get closer. She gives Jongin a paper, smiling.

“I’m a black swan too,” she smiles. “But I’m afraid of water. I want to draw.”

He looks at the paper. Is a realistic drawing of him, smiling.

“It’s beautiful. You did it?” Jongin bends to talk to her.

“Yes,” she nods, her short hair moving cutely. “I would send it, but I wanted to talk to you.”

“You’re very talented,” he offers his hand and she slaps it lightly with her small one, like a high-five.

“People are mean to me. They say bad things, sometimes with their eyes,” she explains. “But you’re like me and you’re perfect, so I got no reason to worry.”

He genuinely laughs, happy.

“Thank you,” he says and he meant it. When her mother comes to take her, he stays there, paralyzed. Chanyeol hugs him and guides him to the car. Jongin says nothing until he has to leave. He gives Minho a tight hug and a dozen gifts, and he has a safe flight home.

 

 

 

When he’s home alone, he sits on the couch with his phone.

**kji.** _Can you see me?_

 **dks.** _Yes._

 **kji.** _Were you waiting for me?_

 **dks.** _Yes._

 **kji.** _Can I see you?_

 **dks.** _No._

 **kji.** _I thought we were making progress_

 

Kyungsoo, of course, doesn’t answer it.

 

 **kji.** _I guess I never met someone like you_

 **kji.** _I’ve been thinking about that lately_

 **kji.** _Am I annoying you?_

 **dks.** _No._

 **kji.** _I wished I could talk to you, just once_

 **kji.** _I like your voice. I really like it._

Jongin sighs, letting his head fall on the armrest. His phone rings. He looks at it, and almost screams when he realizes it’s Kyungsoo.

“Hello?”

“ _Hello_.” Kyungsoo says. “ _You wanted to talk to me. Go on.”_

“Ah…” Jongin can feel himself blushing. “I didn’t expect you to call. That’s nice…”

“ _I can call you another time, if—”_

“No,” Jongin says fast. “I’m fine now. I… I… was thinking… huh, did you like the movie?”

“ _Yes. I liked it.”_

“Huhn… What do you like to do… besides… watching movies?”

“ _I like to swim…”_

“That’s all?”

“ _Yes, I guess.”_

“I like to swim too,” Jongin smiles. “I have a summer house. My family uses it, but I like to go there when I have time… I could take you there… someday.”

“ _That would be nice.”_

Jongin stares at his own feet. He’s nervous.

“Are you dating someone?”

“ _No.”_

“Why not?”

“ _I’m not focused on that now.”_

“Chanyeol said you’re almost the same age as him, but you sound old,” Jongin says. He can hear Kyungsoo’s chuckles and he smiles. “Sorry.”

“ _Well, Chanyeol is just a big kid. I guess I must sound like an old man next to him.”_

“How did you two meet?”

“ _School. He annoyed me until we became friends.”_

“I’m trying to picture it, it’s hard,” Jongin laughs. “I was homeschooled, so I don’t really know how it works.”

“ _You should be glad, since you don’t have to avoid strangers on the street just because they were your classmates ten years ago.”_

Jongin chuckles.

“ _It must be hard to make friends when you don’t go to school.”_

“Well, I danced, so…” Jongin stares at the ceiling. “I have friends from my work.”

“ _I see.”_

“Hey… Kyungsoo…” Jongin gulps. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want it, but… do people treat you differently because you’re a hybrid?”

Kyungsoo takes a little longer to answer, “ _Yes.”_

“How? I mean… I know they have different ways to… sometimes they pretend I’m… like them, sometimes they talk to me like… I’m so great… it’s kind of exaggerating…”

“ _I try not to interact with them. When I do, they don’t seem to realize I’m a hybrid. If they do, they get scared and avoid me.”_

Jongin thinks about that. He feels… embarrassed, for many reasons.

“I’m sorry about the way I’m behaving,” he says, finally. “It’s been… weird lately.”

_“As long as you don’t put your life at risk, I’m fine. I wasn’t offended.”_

“You have such a nice voice. It’s soothing. You could sing.”

_“Maybe in another life.”_

“Do you have any dreams like that?”

_“No. I like having a quiet life.”_

Jongin hugs a pillow, being careful so the phone doesn’t fall.

“I kind of reached my goals, but I don’t feel satisfied.”

“ _Good.”_

“Good?”

“ _What’s the point of living if you’re satisfied?”_

“Not feeling like you have to run all the time. My bones hurt.”

“ _Then don’t run. You don’t have to.”_

“I can’t. I think it’s just how I am. I need to give everything, all the time. I need the recognition, the golden medal, you see…”

_“Then what happens next?”_

“I look for another golden medal.”

_“To keep getting medals, you need to change the game. You can’t win forever in the same field, you need to know how to retire and how to reinvent yourself.”_

“That’s hard. I’m a Capricorn.”

“ _What does that mean?”_

“I’m not very flexible. I mean… metaphorically speaking. Physically, I am. Very flexible. Just saying.”

Kyungsoo laughs.

_“Okay, I get it.”_

“Your laugh is funny,” Jongin tries to imitate it. “Hehehe.”

_“I will hang up.”_

“No, I’m joking. It’s cute,” Jongin says quickly. “You’re cute.”

_“Bye.”_

“Kyungsoo…!” Jongin tries to speak, but Kyungsoo still hangs up. Jongin pouts. He finally gives up and takes a long bath before falling into bed.

He has a few days before the next trip, and he has to get a massage because he can barely move his hips. He talks with Kyungsoo, sometimes. But his next flight is even shorter and he’s just too close to home to feel like something changed. He does as always, even if now he has way more public and just one presentation. It’s cold, he calls his parents and talks to his family, he gives an interview, he sleeps on the car rides. Only Chanyeol goes with him to places and now he feels like he has nothing to fear.

He receives gifts and love from his fans, and he travels home after. He feels tired, sore, and he remembers the season is ending. Back home, he feels just the same. He has to go to rehearsals, meetings, medical appointments, to talk to people and smile.

He’s filming a car advertisement when he gets the message. It’s cold, but he has to film at night.

 

 **dks.** _I checked and it seems that I’m also a Capricorn._

Jongin smiles to his phone.

 

 

 

 

Two days before the last presentation, he receives the result of his exams. Dr. Kim shows him the images, and they sit to talk.

“You need to rest,” he says. He has a soft voice. “I’ve been telling you this, Jongin, but now it’s serious. If you don’t rest, your ankle and your hips may get injured, and then you’ll have to stop, anyway.”

“I’ll take a rest after this tour,” Jongin says. “A real one. I promise.”

“You don’t have to promise me anything, Jongin. It’s your body,” he sighs. “If you don’t stop for a while, you may stop in the future, for real.”

“I know,” he nods. “There’s just one presentation left.”

He walks out of the office feeling weird. He never had vacations, even if he travelled so much. Even his holidays were with his family, so it felt like he was doing something he should do, not… enjoying free time.

Chanyeol picks him up.

“Do you want to eat a pizza today?” He smiles. “Or maybe when the tour is over?”

“No, today is fine,” Jongin smiles at him, feeling light.

Jongin has a great night. He meets Chanyeol’s family and dog, eats pizza, talks to his fans, and goes home. He goes to sleep early, and calls Junmyeon and the staff to tell them he has to skip rehearsal. He wants to give his best in the last day, so he decided to rest. He reads his book and calls his friends. He spends two long hours on the phone with Taemin, like they used to do when they were teenagers.

He eats right this time, salad, juice and he starts to get anxious because he’s locked up a home, so he plays his favorite album over and over again.

He gasps when he gets the messages.

 

 **dks.** _You sure like this song._

 **kji.** _Sorry… I know I listen to it a lot_

 **dks.** _No problem._

 **kji.** _Should I skip it? I have many albums_

 **dks.** _No. I’m fine._

 **kji.** _I’m anxious, this helps._

 **dks.** _Anxious? Why?_

 **kji.** _It’s the last night and I’m… nervous_

 **dks.** _Is it different from the other nights?_

 **kji.** _A bit more dramatic_

 **dks.** _I see._

 **dks.** _At least you don’t have to worry about pranksters this time._

 **kji.** _I trust you_

 **kji.** _By you I mean everyone_

 **kji.** _I know I’ll be fine_

 **kji.** _And even if you’re not there_

 **kji.** _At this point I’d rather be shot down than worry_

 **dks.** _You won’t be shot down._

 **dks.** _Unless you leave your window open._

 **kji.** _Why shot me when you can come here and cuddle????_

 **dks _._** _I don’t like high places._

 **dks.** _I’m sure you don’t want to “cuddle”._

 **kji.** _Stop being serious, I’m trying to flirt with you!!!_

 **dks.** _Go to sleep._

 **kji.** _You’re the worst at sexting!_

Jongin smiles anyway, because it feels good just to talk to Kyungsoo. He sleeps for a long, long time, as he used to when he was a teenager. He takes a selfie to talk and posts it, warning people about the ending of the tour. He hopes there’s going to be another season, but he has many other plans.

Zitao picks him up. They eat together before leaving, but Jongin isn’t hungry. He’s nervous, and he doesn’t even do the entire choreography before getting dressed, because he doesn’t want to be tired. He has to do his own makeup and hair locked in the dressing room, because there are journalists waiting for him outside of the door. Zitao only allows two of them to come in and Jongin gives his best to smile and not seem too nervous.

As he gets ready to walk on the stage, he looks at the closed windows. He thinks about his summer house, about how much he wants to be in his pool, doing nothing but existing in peace. He never had these thoughts before – and that’s how he knows he needs this break. He needs to move, not only physically, but he needs to find a warmer place in his heart.

Jongin looks at his reflection in the window, in his all black costume. The door opens. It’s Yoona, dressed elegantly as she is, always. He’s glad he’s not dirty as she’s used to see him during rehearsals.

“Hello,” he mumbles, fixing his posture. She just smiles – she’s carrying a bouquet of red roses.

“Hello,” she offers the bouquet to him. Jongin takes it, smiling. “For luck.”

“You didn’t have to,” Jongin looks at the roses – they’re bright red. “I… I should be the one… I need to apologize to you.”

“I’m glad to know you’re sorry,” Yoona nods. “But there’s no need. I wasn’t aware of what was happening. I thought it was just… Junmyeon talked to me.”

“Oh,” he whispers.

“I didn’t know you were under such heavy pressure,” she walks closer. “I’m sorry you’re going through this. I’m… If I knew earlier maybe I wouldn’t… leave.”

Jongin takes her hand politely. She doesn’t resist it.

“I don’t want to be a burden. If you have to go, then you should go,” he lifts her hand carefully, kisses it lightly. “I’m a big boy now. I’ll survive.”

She looks fondly at him.

“Yes, you are,” she lets her hand fall. “I’m sure you’ll do well. Good luck tonight.”

“Thank you. Good luck on your new project.”

“Thank you,” she says. “I’ll be watching you from the audience.”

He watches her leave, still holding the roses. The back dancers come in, and he reluctantly gives the flowers to them. He has to say the last speech of the season.

“You did well,” he starts, when they’re in circle, listening. “I’m sorry if my problems made this season unpredictable. I know you gave your best and so did I. I hope this night will be memorable and that we will have many things to commemorate.”

They agree and take their positions. Jongin stands on the corner to the initial scene and everything goes as it was planned. In the first break, he watches the audience and finds familiar faces all around. Junmyeon, Joohyun, Yoona, his sisters and… he hearts skips a beat when he finds Kyungsoo, sitting quietly on the first row. Jongin blinks, shocked and excited.

The final scene is, because of the bodyguard standing there, tense like his first time.

Jongin solo is right in the front of the stage. He has to tell the finale of the story about the mute poet who can recite a song just before his death – cut in the throat, the hemorrhage allows him to talk for the first and last time.

He dances perfectly. The worst part of the dance is the spins and he does it graciously. He lands on the floor to end the scene, and there’s a louder noise than he expects.

The floor breaks, not completely, but enough to make him fall.

He hears the commotion and, for a second, Jongin believes it was just an accident. He tries to hold himself on the floor around him and he realizes the hole was made for him.

He sinks even deeper and a piece of broken wood cuts his hip. Jongin grunts loudly. The lights are on and he hears the security team running. Before Jongin could fall, Zitao’s arms surround him on the chest and pick him up.

Jongin’s legs hurt and his hips are bleeding.

“Are you okay?” Zitao asks him, kneeling on stage. The team and the staff come to see him, and he can see Chanyeol helping people leave the theater.

“What’s happening?” Jongin asks.

“Tell me where you got hurt,” Zitao ignores him.

“Leg and hips,” Jongin breathes out. He turns his head to the side and see the dancers and the staff watching him, worried. He opens his mouth to say words of comfort, but…

Kyungsoo appears in the middle of them. It’s just a fraction of second before he pushes one of the dancers off of the stage. The man falls and screams. Kyungsoo jumps off the stage easily and grabs the man’s hair, dragging him backstage like he weighted nothing.

“What…” Jongin mumbles. Chanyeol lifts him off the ground suddenly – Jongin hadn’t seen him coming. “What’s happening? What he’s doing?”

“Calm down,” Chanyeol says, leaving the stage with Jongin in his arms, shaking way too much; Jongin’s hips hurt, but he can only hear the screams.

“What’s he doing, Chanyeol?” Jongin asks, panicking. “Is he going to kill…”

“Don’t worry, I told you. It’s over,” the bodyguard says. He puts Jongin in the car, Zitao is driving. Jongin lays on the backseat, holding the cut on his hips.

“Please take me to doctor Kim,” he asks. “He’s not in the emergency, but he will take care of me.”

“Fine,” Zitao says. “Tell me where.”

Jongin has to call Dr. Kim, but he agrees in attending him in his house. Chanyeol even carries Jongin in the elevator, but at this point, Jongin just wants the pain to go away. Dr. Kim is in his pajamas, and he cleans Jongin’s cut in his living room, but it’s better than being at a hospital.

“It’s not deep,” Dr. Kim smiles; easy for him to say – Jongin was the one to receive stitches. “But your leg needs to be immobilized. Also, not serious. Maybe a week or two. You’ll have to wait until I get the material. And I’m afraid you’ll have to take an x-ray of your leg. I don’t think it’s broken, of course, but it could have been fractured.”

“I’m fine with it,” he tries to smile. “I just wanted to avoid crowds and people.”

“I understand,” the doctor nods. Jongin wishes he could calm down, but the screams keep echoing in his mind. Zitao and Chanyeol are talking to each other, and Jongin knows he won’t get answers soon.

“Relax,” Dr. Kim says. He’s talking about Jongin’s leg, but it seems like good advice.

 

 

 

 

 

The windows are closed, because it’s too cold outside. Jongin doesn’t mind. Under the sheets, with a nice, warm cup of chocolate, he has nothing to complain about. The summer house is quiet in winter, almost no neighbors around. When he arrived, the security guard told him it could be dangerous to be alone.

Jongin just smiled.

To be fair, he wasn’t alone most days since he got there. Minho and Jonghyun came to visit – but not Taemin, that fake bestfriend, always busy. His family stayed with him for a few days, and Jongin slept deeply with his nephew in his arms. Chanyeol and Zitao also came, but for work reasons.

They came with a picture and an explanation.

“Do you know this guy?” Chanyeol asked, giving him the paper. It had a name and a curriculum, Jongin had seen it before.

“He’s a backup dancer. He works with me since we started the tour planning,” Jongin said, fixing his wool cap. “I don’t know much about the new backup dancers. I just help selecting them. We trained together, of course…”

Zitao and Chanyeol shared a glance, serious.

“It’s him?” Jongin asked. It’s just… a familiar face.

“Yes,” Chanyeol takes the paper from Jongin hands. “He hired a few people to help him, which made it hard to be sure, but Kyungsoo got a confession, and we checked the bank account. He was the one who bought the flowers.”

“Oh,” Jongin nodded. “And how did you find out…”

“We knew it was someone who had access to you,” Zitao said. He’s elegantly dressed for winter. “But Kyungsoo smelled a human around you. We were just trying to find out which one.”

“We already knew it was the staff on your last presentation,” Chanyeol sighed. “But we needed more proof. It had his smell on the broken park of the stage. That’s how we got him.”

“Ah,” Jongin said, staring at the photo. “Why?”

“He’s a purist. Doesn’t like hybrids, but it’s a Yoona fan. We think he was jealous after seeing how you two were close,” Zitao says. “He said he hurt you because you didn’t deserve to be there. He said you were egoistic and childish. He wanted to punish you. He had no intention of killing you, actually.”

“I see…” Jongin nodded. “That’s… no surprise, I think. That he thinks like that.”

“I guess you can be sure this won’t happen again,” Chanyeol said. “He’s already responding for his actions. Unfortunately, the press published few things…”

Jongin knew. One famous site actually said he had done a surgery – his leg wasn’t even fractured. It was purple and sore, like his hips, but he was fine, better than ever. His media blackout scared them, but Jongin couldn’t care less.

“They’re just talking shit, let them,” Jongin assured them. “You guys can see I’m great…”

“How about your leg…?” Chanyeol put his hands over the hurt place. Jongin whined. “Sorry, sorry!”

“You’re so dumb,” Zitao said, disgusted. “Can’t you stop being clumsy for five minutes?”

Chanyeol pouted and Jongin patted him.

“I’m fine. Enjoy your vacations,” Jongin smiled. “I’ll be enjoying mine here.”

“In a beach house, in winter, having a rest?” Zitao snorted. “Not very smart.”

“Then you could visit me and we can play cards,” Jongin suggested. “I mean, you won’t work with me anymore… so…”

There was something in Zitao’s quiet smile.

“I’ll think about that,” he mocked. “You seem to be a whiny friend.”

Jongin just chuckled. They left him there because they knew people were coming to see him.

 

 

 

 

But now Jongin is alone.

His leg still hurts if he walks for a long time and it’s slightly bruised. His hips are healed, but he has to rest, anyway. He never had so much freedom, and it’s ironic to think about that, since he’s locked up in the summer house. It’s been almost two months. It’s warmer, but not as much as he would like it to be. He reads constantly and sometimes he writes. He calls his family everyday and videochats with Taemin when he can. He tries to cook, but he’s not getting better, so the fridge is covered in delivery food numbers. He listens to music all the time, even the new ones. He sleeps… a lot.

Jongin is… having a weird time.

He stares at his phone screen, frustrated. After all this time, he hadn’t seen Kyungsoo once. They talk on the phone, but Kyungsoo is working and seems to be too busy to visit Jongin (even if his teammates are not _that_ busy in the same job). In the first weeks, it was fine. But now… he realizes it’s getting bigger than his occasional obsessions. He thinks about Kyungsoo all the time and every time his phone rings, Jongin’s heart beat so fast that he feels like it will escape his chest.

He’s been watching a foreign series with sex scenes, and he feels like he’s about to explode. He’s at his limit.

 

 **kji.** _My front door is unlocked_

 **kji.** _So is the gate in front of the garden_

 **dks.** _That doesn’t sound very safe._

 **kji.** _Probably not_

 **kji.** _Especially because I’ll be by the pool_

 **dks.** _Isn’t it too cold for swimming? How about your leg?_

 **kji.** _My leg is just fine_

 **kji.** _And your name, like all my friend’s, is on the gate’s security_

 **kji.** _You can come in anytime_

 **kji.** _I’ve been inviting you for a long time now_

 **kji.** _Don’t make me look like a fuckboy_

 **dks.** _What?_

 **kji.** _I’ll be sitting next to the pool_

 **kji.** _NAKED_

 **kji.** _Fucking myself because you won’t_

 **kji.** _All night long because I’m horny as hell_

 **kji.** _I’ll get if you don’t come by_

 **kji.** _But right now… I would die to have you here_

Jongin doesn’t wait for Kyungsoo’s (lack of) answers. He knows Kyungsoo avoids him when they get to this part. But he doesn’t have strength to be silent now. He’s pretty sure of his wants. He takes a long bath and cleans himself in and out. He takes his time; lotion cream, perfume and scented oil, just to feel better. His box is still unpacked in the bags and he carries it with him to his favorite pool lounge chair.

It feels so good to lay there, naked, unbothered by the outside world. It’s chilly, but he doesn’t care. Jongin looks up to the sky while he’s fingering himself – he likes the softness of the pillow on the chair, of his lubed fingers and wind between his legs. It’s been a while.

He licks his lips, throws his head back and lets out a loud moan. He doesn’t touch his dick, half hard and leaking over himself. He wants it slowly, because he’s alone, free and unafraid.

But he doesn’t come. Even if it feels good, he’s still frustrated. There’s something he can’t reach. He tries for a while, over and over again, to come by himself.

He gives up when his hand starts to hurt – which means he tried too hard, he took too long alone there. He gets up and walks inside, going straight to the kitchen to drink water. He’s sweating, despite the weather. He drinks carelessly, water falling on his chest, rolling down his body.

He turns back and walks to the living room.

Jongin is still deciding what he’s going to do when he notices the door is locked. For a second, he truly believes he forgot to leave it open, then, he realizes someone may have locked it.

His heart skips a beat.

 He walks out, slowly, anxious. He looks around and sees nothing different, but when he glances at the poolside, he can see folded clothes on the chair. There are shoes under the chair, a pair of clean black sneakers next to a small object. Jongin almost runs to the chair and gasps when he sees the glasses.

Jongin looks at the pool. Small movements on the water surface. He gulps.

He walks to the edge; instead of using the stairs, he just sits and lets his legs in. He’s scared, but he pushes his body forward and lets it sink into the cold water, eyes closed.

Jongin’s still surprised when Kyungsoo holds him, almost instantly. He gasps and air escapes from his mouth, but Kyungsoo just kisses him. Their bodies aren’t touching yet and Jongin isn’t even cold anymore. He holds Kyungsoo’s back, tightly, forcing their chests to touch and consequently they stand up, feet on the pool floor. Jongin isn’t sure if it was he or Kyungsoo who move them to the closest border, but his back hits a wall and he couldn’t care any less. He’s completely desperate, grabbing Kyungsoo short hair to move his head and kiss him deeper. Jongin could make the water boil just by how his body is burning, now that their tongues are sliding on each other. He can’t help but moan when he feels Kyungsoo hard against him, and it feels amazing to know they both want the same thing.

Kyungsoo breaks the kiss and rubs his lips down Jongin neck, stopping by the shoulder. Kyungsoo bites hard and Jongin screams, screams shamelessly, screams the loudest he can because it hurts _so good_. Kyungsoo keeps biting him on the arm, on the chest, on his nipples and he submerges without breaking physical contact. Jongin make noises, completely out of control; he lifts his arms and tries to support himself on the border. Kyungsoo holds his legs almost gently and lifts him just a little bit. Jongin looks down and can only hold himself when he feels Kyungsoo’s mouth on him. Jongin can’t see – he’s blinded by the sensation of Kyungsoo swallowing him like that, sucking him roughly, like he wants to devour, not just taste it.

Jongin throw his head back, his whole body shaking. Kyungsoo sucks him with no patience, lips tight around his dick, deliciously circling it. Jongin won’t last much at this point, so he lets his body fall again and Kyungsoo lets him go.

Jongin will _die_ if they don’t touch each other. He pulls Kyungsoo to him again, embracing him with his legs; Kyungsoo lets their bodies float, and, with heads above the water, they stare at each other.

“What do you want,” Kyungsoo asks, pressing their foreheads together. Jongin is holding him with arms and legs, no space between them.

“Anything you want,” Jongin says slowly. “As long as you give me all you got.”

Kyungsoo looks deeply in his eyes before kissing him again. Jongin holds him even tighter. Kyungsoo presses him hard against the pool wall, not breaking the kiss, hands going down on Jongin’s body. Jongin is melting.

Kyungsoo breaks their kiss, and Jongin whines instantly. Kyungsoo snorts and holds his hurt leg softly, lifting it out the water. Jongin gets the clue and raises his hips; Kyungsoo puts Jongin’s foot on his shoulder, planting a small kiss on the ankle. Jongin tries to hold himself, supporting his elbows on the border, because he can feel Kyungsoo’s hand touching his balls and moving to the crack of his ass.

Kyungsoo’s fingers slide into him so easily that he just gulps, unable to say anything.

“Can I?” Kyungsoo asks again and Jongin tries to find his voice after seeing such a beautiful sight in front of him.

“Please,” Jongin pleads, already too gone in pleasure. “Please…”

Kyungsoo removes his fingers carefully and Jongin holds his breath. Kyungsoo makes a strangled noise, trembling, when he sinks in Jongin. It’s a fast move and Jongin looks up, facing the sky, because his entire body moves in response. Kyungsoo stops for a moment. Jongin can feel his legs shaking, his lips trembling, his entire being reacting to Kyungsoo inside of him.

“Just fuck me,” Jongin whispers and he doesn’t know if he’s still wet, but his eyes are teary. “Please, just—”

Kyungsoo thrusts into him. It’s not gentle and Jongin closes his eyes, trying to grab anything to hold on to. Kyungsoo does it over and over again, in a brutal, pointedly way, hands on Jongin’s legs, holding him in place.

Jongin lets his head fall back, a guttural noise escaping his throat and he feels good – he feels good to be fucked like that, hard, angrily, with no traces of hesitation. Kyungsoo’s little noises are everything he wanted to hear and he looks at the birds flying out there on the sky with no envy.

He’s reaching way higher.

Jongin comes like that, abruptly, dick untouched. He can feel himself tightening against Kyungsoo and he rolls his eyes back, letting his body be consumed by the orgasm. Kyungsoo doesn’t stop not even for a second; Jongin regains his senses but he’s still being deeply stimulated. His body jerks away from Kyungsoo, trembling. Kyungsoo holds him in place, fucking him even deeper and Jongin whines loud.

Kyungsoo grunts, and Jongin can feels he’s close; Kyungsoo tries to slide out of him. There are chills up and down his spine, but Jongin manages to speak.

“Please,” he whispers, before Kyungsoo pushes him away. “Stay inside. Come inside me.”

“Jongin,” a small hint of worry in his inhumanly grunt. Kyungsoo’s hunger is clearly in his eyes when he thrusts inside Jongin one last time.

“I can take it,” Jongin pleads, licking his lips. “I want it.”

Kyungsoo lets Jongin leg fall from his chest, floating around him. Jongin throws his arms around Kyungsoo’s neck, holding onto him.

Jongin can feel himself being spread open and he can only scream.

“Fuck,” he holds Kyungsoo tighter. “Fu… ck!”

Kyungsoo’s cock is opening inside him, and it causes pleasure and pain at the same time, a type of feeling he only had before after many hours of training, a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction.

It lasts few seconds. Then he’s being filled up. Jongin doesn’t know what to do with himself. Kyungsoo holds him carefully until it ends.

They stay like that, in silence, just holding each other for a long time.

Until Jongin sneezes.

“We need to leave the pool,” Kyungsoo laughs, caressing Jongin’s back. “You don’t want to be sick again, do you?”

Jongin smiles at him.

“Are you going to make me a soup if I get sick?”

“I wouldn’t,” Kyungsoo says, serious. “But this time it was my fault, so maybe. Let’s see.”

Jongin snorts.

“Let’s go,” Kyungsoo moves him. Jongin pouts.

“Can we do it again inside too?”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Kyungsoo smiles again.

“I’m worried about you disappearing, that’s why,” Jongin complains. “Don’t take me out of a cold pool to leave me alone in a cold bed.”

“Why not?” Kyungsoo raises his eyebrows.

“Well,” Jongin says defiantly. “No warm body or warm soup. I’ll need to find someone else to warm it for me, then, if you don’t want to.”

Kyungsoo pushes him again, lightly, in the direction of the stairs. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t make those pretty marks on you for anyone else to appreciate them.”

Jongin kisses him one more time before leaving the water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.

 

Jongin opens his eyes slowly.

He wants to get out of the bed; his body disagrees. He’s tired and his hips are a little sore. He finally sits up and stretches lazily. He’s naked, but he’s also alone, so it doesn’t matter. He gets up, washes his face and walks out of the room. There’s a song playing on repeat in his head and he dances to it, warming his body up.

On the kitchen’s table, a bowl covered with a lid is waiting for him. It’s still warm. Under it, a small paper listing the ingredients.

Jongin thinks about sitting and having a nice breakfast, but he’s not in a hurry anymore. He puts on music, rubs his feet on the carpet, dances until he’s sweaty.

Something is missing.

He thinks about wine… No. He smiles to himself. He walks around opening every window, the curtains, letting the wind blow in his face. He touches his lips, closes his eyes and lets the weak sunlight hit his face.

He feels like himself.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for the mods for helping me and being so sweet :)
> 
> this plot was literally haunting me when I saw the (detailed) prompt with everything I was thinking about. I guess it was destiny. I hope the prompter enjoyed it and everyone else too!
> 
> basic info: 
> 
> The fic title is a quote from the song Haunting, Halsey.  
> The song Jongin sings is: Gimme all your love, Alabama Shakes.  
> The poem read by Taemin is Winter Trees by Sylvia Plath.  
> The poem read by Jongin is Leda 3.


End file.
